


Everybody Loves Somebody

by jewboykahl



Category: South Park
Genre: 1960s Slang, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bullying, Canon Gay Relationship, Character Death, Dialect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff, Graphic Description, Hate Crimes, High School, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mild Smut, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26642179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl
Summary: "Y-You mean you're queer, too?" Tweek sputtered bluntly, slowly finding his calm.Craig’s breath hitched. Even standing before Tweek, freshly kissed, hearing him utter that sentence, the prospect of confession was terrifying. Actual years were spent fighting tooth and nail not to kiss Tweek when he found his friend dangerously close, not letting the phrase I love you escape his utterance, avoiding labeling himself as anything other than normal and not queer. More so than his fear of the word, he needed to make Tweek feel calm and safe. Beyond that, loved. He caught the single tear that was rolling down his cheek, "For you, I guess I am."-Set in 1966, Tweek and Craig are two boys in love. It doesn't take long for the small town ambiance to catch up with their illicit affair, posing danger to them and their relationship. The couple come face to face with society's disapproval of their existence, but don't regret a second of it.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 87
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey all! thank u for reading, & i just wanted to express that I am not the best when it comes to 60s dialect (just like i havent actually like full-blown gotten a degree in it) so apologies if any fan of the era finds any inconsistencies  
> thank u for reading, though, & i hope u enjoy! (-:

_October, 1966_

"Craig, please no!" Tweek groaned, trying not to laugh as he pushed his best friend away. Craig had been attempting to finally tame his wild mop of blond curls manually after years of suggesting various tactics. Lunging at him with a handful of grease seemed like a good enough idea, and he finally managed to get him pinned up against the sink in Tweek's small bathroom. 

He laughed with a glob of product in his hand, cackling and slapping Tweek’s arms away with his free hand. "C'mon, just do it _once_ and I'll never bother you again!" 

"I will scream if you don't let me go." Tweek threatened, wriggling out of his grasp. 

"Cool your jets, kid. All I want to do is see what you look like!" 

"I know I'll look horrible! Is that not good enough for you?" 

"Nope." Craig shook his head, smiling at his friend. "I use it every day, do I look horrible?" 

"Well, no," Tweek said, feeling a bit embarrassed. "You look good, but, I just, I have light hair and I'd look like a square." 

"You already look like a square, what do you got to lose?" Craig smirked, chuckling at his own joke as Tweek yelped and rolled his eyes. 

"Let it go, I don’t want to have my hair done like that!" 

"Alright, alright, jeez Louise." Craig finally laid down his sword. Without much thought, he pressed himself against Tweek's body, arms firm around his waist as he reached the sink. He pushed the handle and let hot water run over his skin, washing the grease out. Only when he felt Tweek's hot breath against his neck did he realize what he was doing. A jolt of that odd, fuzzy feeling Tweek always gave Craig coursed through him. His temperature suddenly rose when he drew back to meet Tweek’s stare. Craig knew what these feelings were, but he was not allowed to feel them. 

Tweek gazed deeply into Craig's hazel eyes, his chest pounding as it used all its strength to conceal his heart. He deeply loved the boy in front of him, and he didn't know how much longer he could keep running from the truth—or, how much longer he could keep having these kinds of moments with Craig. Every now and then they'd find themselves inches, centimeters, millimeters from one another, laughing or just staring like they had never seen anything so amazing. All Tweek could think about is how much he wanted to close the gap and finally relieve the tension that had been building between them for as long as he could remember. 

And suddenly, he did. 

A random stroke of courage made Tweek lift his hand and wrap it around Craig's neck. Craig was confused, but hopeful. Was he about to do it? That thing that Craig had never quite had the courage to do? Without his common sense's consent, Tweek reeled downward to attach his lips to Craig's. It was ungraceful, but neither of them noticed. 

Craig's entirety was blinded by the feeling of Tweek's mouth upon his. His lips were sweet and soft, the faint taste of coffee lingering. Tweek could hear the blood pounding in his ears, eyes opening widely with the realization of what he was _doing_. This wasn't right. This was _illegal_. He pulled back with a horrified expression, cheeks completely devoid of color. He pushed Craig away from him, reverting into panic mode and tugging on his hair. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, please don't tell anyone. Please don't—"

"Tweek, it's—" 

"Oh my god, I'm going to Hell! Or worse, _jail!_ Fuck, Craig, please, I-I’m not a queer, I don’t know why I-I—Oh _god_ ,”

"Man, honest, calm down—" 

"Fuck, please don’t hate me, I’m so sorry, I—” 

Tweek's anxiety induced rant was interrupted by Craig cupping the smaller boy's cheeks in his hands, forcing him to gape nowhere but his face. His forehead creased as his eyebrows rose, expression serious but calm. "Relax, Tweek. I don’t hate you. In fact, I love you, and I wish I had done that so much sooner." 

"Y-You mean you're queer, too?" Tweek sputtered bluntly, slowly finding his calm. 

Craig’s breath hitched. Even standing before Tweek, freshly kissed, hearing him utter that sentence, the prospect of confession was terrifying. Actual years were spent fighting tooth and nail not to kiss Tweek when he found his friend dangerously close, not letting the phrase _I love you_ escape his utterance, avoiding labeling himself as anything other than _normal_ and not _queer_. More so than his fear of the word, he needed to make Tweek feel calm and safe. Beyond that, _loved_. He caught the single tear that was rolling down his cheek, "For you, I guess I am." 

Tweek flushed and covered his lips with his fingertips. "Really? You better not be fucking with me, Craig," 

"I’m not a lunatic, I wouldn't joke about this. Not this, kid." Craig assured him, unable to control his smile at that point. Tweek was the only person in the world that possessed the ability of making Craig grin carelessly. Usually cynical and monotone, Tweek brought him to life and made him feel a courageous happiness he didn’t know outside of their friendship. 

"You have no idea how good that is to hear." Tweek sighed, pulling Craig into a tight hug. 

Craig held him close, pressing a kiss to his nest of curls. He smirked. "I think I do." 

Without warning, Tweek leaned up excitedly and stole another kiss. Crag raised his eyebrows and let himself become submerged in the feeling of him. Now that the bridge was crossed, it was difficult for the two to separate for the rest of the night. They only stopped when it was midnight and Craig needed to be home. They agreed he needed to exit through the window so Tweek's parents didn't know he had stayed so late. After Craig climbed out, he turned and stole a lingering, final kiss from Tweek's lips before reeling back and admiring the way his unofficial boyfriend looked in his tired, blissful state with the moonlight illuminating his face. "You're amazing, you know that?" 

"Shut up." Tweek muttered, embarrassed by the incessant compliments that were now direct, pushing a loose strand of black hair from Craig's forehead. 

"Never," Craig assured with a wink, backing down from the window and hopping to the earth beneath his feet. He backpedaled away from Tweek’s window, waving good-bye for probably too long. As he set out for home, he prayed that the God he didn’t believe in would cut him some slack one last time despite his homosexual acts and let his parents be in too deep of a sleep to hear him come in so late.

_

The weather did not permit in Craig's favor. He glared out the window at the cursed drizzle of rain and the grey storm cloud shrouding their town, willing it to end before the events of the night were completely ruined. He and Tweek had been happily and illicitly dating for two weeks then, and he was immersed in a bliss he had never known. He could finally verbalize all the thoughts that entered his mind about the blond boy and he wouldn't be persecuted for it—at the very least, not by Tweek, whose opinion mattered the most to him anyway.

"Got any big plans tonight, my boy?" Mr. Tucker's gruff voice inquired from behind a pipe, most likely wondering why he requested to borrow his vehicle. Craig's attention averted to his slightly over-weight, red-headed father. Every time he considered his father’s looks, he was deeply grateful he favored his mother’s Peruvian side of the family, as it gifted him with sooth, tan skin opposed to his father’s pimply, translucent complexion (even if he was occasionally harassed for being biracial).

"Just meeting up with the guys." Craig answered absentmindedly. 

His father grunted in reply, breathing out a puff of air and scanning his eyes along the black and white daily paper in his hands. "Have you been lookin' for a job?" 

Craig refrained his eye-roll, quite tired of this topic. "There ain't no place hiring." 

"I'm sure that Tweek can find a place for you at their coffee shop. There ain't no reason a seventeen year old boy shouldn't be workin'." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know, child labor laws ruined this country, I should already have eight years of experience. Later, pops." 

Craig was given the infamous Tucker farewell; his father rose a middle-finger at him as he lifted his leather jacket off his shoulders and over his neatly combed hair to protect it from the rain that had fallen to a drizzle. He plodded to his way to his father's precious, cherry red Plymouth Fury and climbed inside. He adjusted his hair with the aid of the rear-view mirror and simpered to himself. In few minutes he would be with Tweek again, and the rain was letting up. 

Being with Tweek was the best and worst thing in the world, like finally learning how to swim in the deep end after years of wadding pointlessly in shallow water. While every second spent pressing kisses to Tweek’s pink lips, whispering secrets into his ear, making up any excuse to brush against one another was perfect, it was dangerous. They resided in a microscopic, rural mountain town; while political ideology was generally split, every devout Catholic in the area seemed to agree that homosexuality was an egregious sin. This message was imprinted on the teenagers of Craig’s generation (he shuddered each time he remember a classmate being tortured daily because he was merely _thought_ to be queer). Tensions in the town had been high for years, the war looming over the community as several young men had been drafted for service—everyone was either in despair, protest, or looking for any slim reason to pick a fight. If anyone were to become privy to the extent of his romantic relations with Tweek, it could be catastrophic.

In Craig’s mind, however, a mere grin and side-ways glance from Tweek was worth any consequence.

The ride down the quiet, rain-slicked road was short, and he soon reached his destination. Pulling into the driveway and three honks later, Tweek stuck his head out of his bedroom window, wearing an irritated expression. "Keep your pants on, I'm coming!" 

Craig laughed to himself and took his hand away from the horn. It took Tweek a few more minutes to ascend from his bedroom and slide into Craig's car. He took a second to admire his boyfriend’s charmingly geeky attire: over-sized sweater, high water jeans, and mismatched ankle socks. The blond repressed his instinctive urge to peck his boyfriend's lips, wary of any spectators. Craig seemed to read the boy's mind, granting him a sad smile and backing out of his driveway. He reached over and took Tweek's slightly smaller hand in his. He grinned. "So, where're we going?" 

Craig smirked, quite confident in the night he had planned. "We are going on a date, honey." 

"Craig, you know we can't do that." Tweek sighed, eyeing him incredulously. "What if someone sees us and knows what's going on? Then we'll get arrested! Or killed! Or the government will make us inject ourselves with hormones and torture—!"

"Tweek, don't get all bent. It won't be obvious. But, you're my boyfriend, and you deserve to feel like you're in a normal relationship. It isn't fair that we have to sneak around and pretend we're just real good buddies." Craig interrupted Tweek's flustered ranting.

Tweek allowed a dejected smile to stretch his lips despite the waves of anxiety still rolling through his chest. "It really isn't fair. But, I don't need a normal relationship. I just need you." 

The words alone made Craig's heart flutter. He was the proud owner of a smile himself and gave the blond’s hand a squeeze. "Good thing you'll always have me." 

Tweek pulled Craig's hand fully into his lap, gingerly stroking his knuckles with the pad of his index finger. "What's the plan for our date, then?" 

"Dinner and a movie?" Craig replied, making Tweek's heart punch his rib-cage when he nearly rear-ended the car in front of them. "Goddamn it!" he cursed when he earned an angry honk. 

"Jesus, Craig! Pay attention or we're gonna crash!" Tweek yelped, throwing the driver's arm back on the wheel. 

Craig chuckled lowly, still annoyed at the situation. "We're fine, babe. Crisis averted." 

"The crisis can still occur if you don't keep your eyes on the road! _Gah!_ " 

"Tweek, you're safe, be cool." Craig ordered in a soothing tone, gripping his hand comfortingly again. 

Tweek was not totally convinced, but it didn't matter, as they had finally entered the parking lot of their favorite diner. The couple exited the vehicle and restrained the urge to reconnect on their way inside the establishment. After a nice and satisfying meal, they headed over to the outdoor theater that was adjacent to the restaurant. After several minutes of arduous arguing, Craig successfully coaxed his boyfriend into sneaking into the drive-in for free. He assured the overly anxious boy that nobody would find out—not their parents, the owners of the theater, the principal, mayor, or president of the United States—and if they did, they would receive a slap on the wrist at most. They made their way to a small break in the tall metal fence that enclosed the property of the drive-in that all the kids in town were privy to and often utilized. Tweek continuously muttered his fears about being caught, and by extent imprisoned for the remainder of their natural lives, or being shot on sight for trespassing. Craig reasoned that if they were to go down at least it would be together.

They sneaked their way to a secluded area, hidden from the street-lamp's light under a large oak tree. They seated themselves on the concrete curb, feet situated on the black asphalt, still sleek with precipitation. They could hear the chatter of the paying customers and the roaring of engines as cars entered and exited the lot. The moon was cloaked by dark clouds, an ominous and eerily soothing ambiance setting the scene for the couples' first secret date. Although their view of the screen was slightly obscured, they were pleased to be alone. 

Craig's honeyed hazel eyes scanned their surroundings to detect any spectators. When he was sure they were tucked away from the judgmental eye of society he snaked his arm around Tweek's hips and dragged him into his embrace, planting a kiss on the boy's rosy cheek. Tweek scrunched his nose happily at Craig, though he remained cagey. _Anyone could be watching_ , that voice in his head repeatedly ceaselessly. "What if someone sees?" he verbalized those thoughts.

Craig angled his chin and hazel locked in a stare with deep green. His lips curled in a smirk and he spoke with unwavering certainty. "Let them."

With that confident declaration, he leaned into a passionate kiss. Tweek was immediately soothed by the warm familiarity of Craig's soft lips. Kissing Craig allowed the worries and anxieties of mere existence to melt away with the rest of the world. There was no place he ever did, nor would, feel safer than with Craig pressed against him in symbolization of the mutual adoration they shared. Craig's promise to love him forever was sealed with these terms of endearment and nothing else quite possessed the power to render him completely at peace.

Tweek pulled back and gazed happily at Craig's handsome face; not because the moment had ended or to catch his breath, but simply because he desired to absorb every microscopic detail of Craig's being. He could not get enough of that glint his greenish-brown eyes whenever they met Tweek's, his rounded button nose, his crocked bottom teeth and his spaced two-front teeth, his warm tan skin. Everything had to be permanently etched into his memory. Craig lifted an eyebrow, questioning the other boy's actions. "You okay?"

To show that he was, Tweek grinned wider, causing crinkles just beside his eyes (which Craig adored.) "Yeah, I just want to remember what you look like right now. So that if anything happens to us I'll know your face by heart and I won't ever have to forget. 'Cause I can't think of anything worse than forgetting how cute you are." 

Butterflies erupted in Craig's stomach, and although he could not deny the blush that was surely coloring his cheeks he played it off. "Why don't you take a photo, then?" 

Tweek gently slapped his thigh. "Don't ruin the moment!" 

Craig laughed heartily. "I'm only joking, T. I dig it when you say sweet stuff like that to me." 

"Yeah, more like you dig teasing me for it." Tweek grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. This was something he did often; pouted so that Craig had to coax him back into cooperation. He enjoyed receiving multiple kisses all over his face in Craig's desperate attempt to get the boy to stop being 'upset' at him. 

Craig, falling into the trap like always, wrapped Tweek in his arms and pressed his lips to the spot underneath his ear. He whispered. "I could never forget your face." 

Tweek turned, enthralled with the dialogue and dropping his butt-hurt façade. "But what if one day we don't see each other and you slowly start to forget what I look like?" 

Craig wet his lips, resolved, "Trust me. I couldn't forget the most perfect thing in the world." 

If Tweek's entire face wasn't glowing red with bashfulness before, it was now. "Can we take photos too anyways?" 

"Of course, Tweek." Craig laughed. He kissed Tweek's lips lightly before they both averted their attention to the moving projection on the giant screen. As the night progressed, the clouds decided they weren't quite empty yet. They let loose their remaining droplets, quickly accumulating to a thick, cold downpour. "Shit," Craig cursed, concern for the condition of his hair making him grit his teeth. He glanced to the shivering Tweek that tried in vain to block the rain with his hands. Craig huffed, shrugging off his jacket and using it to shield them both from the rain. "Of course this happens when I try to do a neat boyfriend thing." 

Tweek chuckled at Craig's frustration. "It was neat. You're only upset your hair’s messed up!" 

"Shut your face!" Craig grumbled, pulling away his jacket and letting the heavy droplets pelt Tweek, who was only protected by his knit sleeves. He smirked sadistically. "Wanna bail?" 

"Yes, you asshole!" Tweek yelped, clinging to Craig reluctantly to protect himself. There was rarely anything warm about the weather in South Park, Colorado. 

The two crawled out the same way they entered, retreating down the long neglected alley in a rush to escape the unrelenting storm. As Tweek trailed behind Craig, he decided a little pay-back was in order. He stomped his foot harshly against a puddle. The dirty water rose in a miniature wave and soaked Craig's right leg. He groaned in protest and turned to Tweek with his middle finger pointed up. 

"I know you would." the blond shot back with a wink. 

Craig rolled his eyes and returned the attack, hopping with both feel into a large puddle and effectively wetting both his boyfriend and himself with ground water. Tweek shrieked a laugh and began furiously kicking water up at Craig's blue jeans. They had both disregarded the condition of their high-top Converse at that point and splashed one another relentlessly. Escaping the crushing weight of a primitive attitude towards their love was just what the young lovers needed; and they did so with the childish game of who-can-get-who-the-wettest.

"Okay, okay, I surrender, I surrender!" Craig chuckled, backing away from Tweek and smoothing his greased hair with his hand. "Truce?" 

Tweek hummed, trailing towards his boyfriend. "If you kiss me in the rain," 

Craig physically cringed at the over-done sentiment. “That’s queer even for us,”

"This is unconditional surrender, Tucker! Abide by my terms or I cannot accept your truce." Tweek declared, crossing his arms over his chest to signify his unwavering position. 

"Well, it ain't gonna be my fault when you catch a cold." 

"Yeah it will be! You're the one who didn't wanna pay for the drive-in!"

"Okay, fine, if you're gonna be a drag." Craig grumbled jokingly, striding the short distance it took to reach his shorter boyfriend. Tweek’s yellow ringlets were caked to his forehead, his sweater saturated and dripping, water droplets cascading down his pale cheeks. Craig gently cupped his cheeks and pressed their foreheads together. Tweek bit his lip and rested his arms around Craig's waist, forced to lean on his toes. Their hearts swelled with an equal amount of satisfaction and love. "This is so cliché." 

"Fuck off or kiss me already," Tweek teased with a wanting simper. 

Craig met his demands by smashing their lips together passionately. They stood in the middle of the alley, holding onto one another as if they'd wither away in the wind, the rain cloaking them, protecting them from the world around them. Neither could think of anything they could have wanted more in that moment, or in general. They were truly, irrevocably in love, although it was forbidden. 

"We're gonna catch pneumonia." Tweek giggled after pulling back. Craig laughed in agreement and suggested they finally head back towards the car. When they reached it, Craig’s watch told them it was only nine-thirty. They decided to take a drive; being alone meant talking openly about how cute Craig looks without his hair neatly combed back and how much Craig wanted to kiss Tweek for eternity.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: this chapter contains depictions of oral sex/smut

Driving past the wooden sign on the edge of town that read ‘South Park’ in black bold letters was a liberating feeling for all residents, even adults that chose the small-town lifestyle. This town was infamous for strange occurrences that never could quite be explained. Things that most well-to-do people (or anyone that resided outside of South Park’s borders, to be frank) would consider a catastrophe or outlandish became just another part of growing up in their mountain town. While it held nostalgia and the everlasting feeling of home, it also made them feel trapped and mad with the desperation of _getting the hell out_. Tweek stared out the window and released a sigh that reflected his mixture of such feelings; freedom and a begrudged love for the town.

Green eyes floated to Craig’s still expression. He was paying attention to Dean Martin’s smooth voice on the radio singing about everybody loving somebody sometime. Tweek thinks it’s absurd; every lyric. How could Dean Martin know love? He didn’t have Craig. Tweek was the only one who knew what it felt like to be held and kissed and adored by Craig. He was the only one who got to gaze at Craig’s handsome face as he drove away with him. And he was the only one who Craig would do the same to. This was love and it was, in Tweek’s opinion, the most amazing, purest, genuine love to exist. No song on the radio was accurate.

“Pull over.” Tweek demanded, judgement clouded by his adoration.

Craig threw him a perplexed side-glance, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Tweek was leaned over then, and expressed his desperation by pressing his lips underneath Craig’s ear. “Just pull over.”

Chills told Craig to obey the boy and as soon as the opportunity presented itself he pulled over on the side of the road. The area was sufficiently secluded, tuck away into a collection of massive spruce trees. Craig was severely confused, but the need in Tweek’s high-pitched voice gave him a strange feeling inside his stomach. It was dark and eerie, but for once, Tweek couldn’t care less.

“What’s this all about—“

Tweek didn’t have time to let Craig finish that thought, let alone answer it. He reached across the center console and gripped the leather flaps of his collar. Craig’s instincts thankfully took over when Tweek kissed him in an almost animalistic way, lips parted and tongue begging for entrance. Craig swiftly turned the keys in the ignition, engine ceasing and music ensuing, though the sound was drowned out by the soft whimpers that escaped the two and the shuffling of their bodies against one another and the interior of the vehicle. He wound his long arms around Tweek’s vaguely pudgy middle and opened his mouth to appease his boyfriend’s random forwardness.

Intensity and heat rose in the air and in their bodies, Tweek barely pulling away for oxygen when necessary. He was straddling Craig’s thighs then, embarrassment of the problem in his pants dissipating when he could easily detect Craig shared the dilemma. Feeling more desperate than he ever had and with all the wonderful thoughts that existed about Craig swimming in his fast-working mind he shifted so they were essentially sharing the driver’s seat.

Tweek’s fingers were embedded in unexpectedly thick and silky black hair, and Craig’s hands stretched to the small of Tweek’s back. The fabric of their rain-soaked clothing made being so close to one another so uncomfortable that it became impossible to ignore despite the intensity of the situation. The denim produced unpleasant noises when Tweek shifted. Both became overwhelmed by a desire to be rid of the garments. Breathing erratically, Tweek was the first to express this want. His lips, swollen from vigorous kissing, were on Craig’s ear again and he whispered with so much angst that the other boy thought he might come undone right then and there. Tweek whispered, “Touch me, Craig.”

“A-Are you sure?” It was Craig’s turn to be nervous. They had seemingly switched roles in this scenario; Tweek being bold and decisive and Craig twittering and tightening his grasp on Tweek’s waist as if his life was dependent upon clinging to the blond’s body that smelled of rain and coffee.

Tweek tried not to scoff—because it was obvious he was very, very sure. Every inch of him positively ached for Craig’s hands to explore it, but certain places required more attention than others. “Yes. I want you—I _need_ you to touch me.”

Craig’s heart pounded relentlessly in his chest. However, he gained footing as far as dialogue went. He secured the smaller boy in his embrace gave kisses instead of receiving, trailing from Tweek’s collarbone to his right ear. “Where do you want me to touch you, baby?”

“E-Everywhere,” was Tweek’s first reaction, his filter and shame diminishing under Craig’s influence. “God, touch me everywhere, Craig.”

Craig’s lips pulled into a smirk, proud to have this effect on such a perfect person. Craig turned and gingerly pushed Tweek into a laying position on the seat. He cringed slightly at the friction wet denim caused. They really needed to be rid of these horrid wet jeans. He climbed between Tweek’s legs, pressing himself to Tweek’s neck. The taste of his skin was sweet and intoxicating and soon lips weren’t enough to satisfy Craig’s new addiction; his tongue was better equipped for this mission. Tweek spouted a loud huff of pleasure at the hot, moist feeling against his skin.

“How about we start with here?” Craig continued the prior discussion, signified by his hand cupping Tweek’s needy crotch. The blond sighed again, and Craig found it so adorable—perfect, more like, and he wanted to cause this noise to escape from Tweek over and over again, so he pulled his hand up and down repetitively against the most sensitive area on his beautiful body. Moaning and writhing under Craig’s touch, Tweek begged for more. More contact, more kisses, more _Craig_. Craig satisfied the requests eagerly—unprofessionally, but eagerly and satisfactorily nonetheless.

“Take off my jeans,” Tweek groaned. His emerald eyes were hooded and Craig longed to stare into them, but was also okay with the image of his arched back and exposed neck. “ _Jesus_ , Craig.”

Craig hummed and clumsily worked the zipper of Tweek’s jeans that were much tighter than when they began. With minor difficulty, Craig yanked them down to reveal Tweek’s hardened dick barely concealed by the fabric of his boxers. Another wave of overwhelming feelings invaded Craig’s stomach and any other part of his being that wanted to do as Tweek requested and caress every centimeter of his body. “Fuck,” Craig muttered.

“Craig,” Tweek whined, turning his head and bucking his hips. He needed to feel Craig against him with nothing in-between. He had torn some of the skin from his lip and he started to taste blood. But he couldn’t be bothered to care. The only thing that he was concerned about was _Craig_.

“Say my name again.” Craig spoke, shocking himself a little because he really didn’t mean to say that aloud. He was only thinking about how much he liked to hear his name leave Tweek’s lips. His fingers curled around the elastic waistband of the other boy’s underwear, agonizingly slowly freeing his erection.

Tweek smiled softly, enthused by Craig’s demand. “Craig,” he breathed out sweetly, then a yelp. Finally his boxers and jeans were all the way down his thighs, and the hazel of Craig’s was taken over by his dilated pupils. Tweek was so _beautiful,_ and he had to do everything he could to make sure he knew it. “Shit, baby,” he huffed out.

“Touch me, Craig. Please,” He begged. His eyes were open then, wide and staring down at Craig’s face with anticipation and need etched into his features. “I need you.”

Craig swallowed hard, a bit of his anxiety returning. He experimentally grabbed Tweek’s dick with his quavering hand. This brought out a quiet shout from the back of Tweek’s throat, encouraging Craig to do more. He watched in awe at the way Tweek’s small body reacted to his touch, wriggling and twitching at every flick of his wrist as he pumped him.

“Ugh, yeah,” Tweek murmured, turning his head to the side and clamping his jaw shut. Waves of indescribable pleasure took over Tweek’s body and mind. “Don’t stop, please,”

Craig didn’t, not until Tweek’s dick thickened in his hand with the need to release itself. Craig opened his mouth and let him empty onto his tongue and cheek, drops falling against Tweek’s sweaty skin. Craig licked the rest of it up, quickly becoming addicted to the way it tasted, although the flavor itself wasn’t particularly pleasing to the taste buds. The fact that it was _Tweek_ made it better than anything he could have consumed.

Tweek’s chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing, but he barely gave himself enough time to recovered before he kicked his jeans and undergarments off while simultaneously pushing Craig’s thick jacket from his shoulders. Craig threw the jacket into the back seat then went to work on the plastic buttons of the other boy’s olive green shirt. When there was nothing but Craig’s underwear keeping both boys from full nudity, Tweek sat himself up and possessed a hungry look in his sea green eyes. “Lay back.”

Craig smirked, quirking an eyebrow at the boy. “Yes, sir.” He retorted, stealing a kiss from Tweek’s full lips before meeting his request. He did as he was told and buried his hands in Tweek’s damp, wavy hair and sighed happily at the kisses he was receiving all over his stomach while Tweek pushed his own underwear off of him. Without hesitation—Craig was reasonably shocked at how prepared Tweek was for this sexual situation, and was expecting it to go something like _‘Gah, this is way too much pressure!_ ’ if Craig so much as touched him too close to his hips—Tweek grabbed Craig fully in his hand and parted his lips around the head.

“Holy fuck,” Craig shuddered, fist tightening around Tweek’s hair. He was astonished at how _good_ it felt. It was as if every inch of his body was affected by his hot tongue slowly sliding against the tip of his hard dick. Craig watched with doe eyes every movement of Tweek’s beautiful lips. He felt as though he was entering the pearly gates of Heaven when the blond’s mouth widened and took in all it could fit. “Tweek—oh my god, baby,”

Green found hazel staring down at it in wonderment. Tweek’s eyes smiled at him, his head bobbing to the beat of the music that played gently through the speakers. Neither boys recognized the song, but Craig loved it; he would always associate it with the amazing feeling of Tweek’s lips around him, moving artfully and carefully so that his teeth didn’t become part of this equation. Craig was loud, and each moan that built up to coming grew in volume. It was relatively (and pathetically, in his opinion) quickly when all the elements around him became too much and he released himself inside of Tweek’s mouth. He felt a touch of guilt when it didn’t quite go down easy for Tweek, but the blond swallowed a large gulp despite the coughing. He recovered swiftly and gazed up at Craig innocently, his characteristic anxiousness finally returning to his aura. “Was-Was that okay?”

“Was that okay?” Craig repeated. He laughed; that was a ridiculous question. “That was fucking amazing, baby.”

Tweek’s confidence was restored. He smiled with his tongue between his teeth and leaned down to pepper a few more kisses across Craig’s perfect body before climbing onto him and nuzzling against him. Craig immediately responded by wrapping Tweek in a tight hug and kissing his mess of hair. They took a minute to find a suitable breathing pattern before Tweek shifted to peer up at his boyfriend. He rested his chin in his hands against the black-haired boy’s chest, wearing a loving smile. Craig stowed his gaze to Tweek and let his lips twitch into a grin himself.

“I love you so much.” Tweek whispered, his voice straining as if he could cry from how much he meant that.

Craig’s thumb brushed softly across his cheekbone, where his skin was plagued by crimson blush. It was so perfect, and everything about his boyfriend was so perfect. “I love you so, so goddamn much. With all my heart.”

“More than anything.” Tweek added, shutting his eyes and enjoying the feeling the pad of Craig’s thumb against his face.

“Until the day I die.” came Craig’s addition, a definitive intensity with this statement. “I swear, I’m gonna love you forever, kid. I’m gonna love you this much when you’re old and mean and got a big ole beer belly.”

Tweek laughed gleefully at that promise. “So will I. ‘Cause I’ve been doing nothing but loving you since I met you when we were ankle-biters. I didn’t even know what it all meant back then, but I know I loved you. And I’m never gonna stop.”

“Better not,” Craig told him. “I don’t care if someone finds out and they lock me away forever—that won’t make me stop loving you with everything I got.”

“I promise you, you’re my love for good, and no one else is gonna do. Only you, forever.”

Craig liked hearing that, and he wanted to make Tweek say it over and over again, just like his name. It sounded better when Tweek uttered it—it sounded _right_ , and perfect, and like he was the only one in the world meant to say the name ‘Craig’. When he realized he had taken a full minute to just gape at Tweek’s face he validated it by telling him, “You’re perfect, you know that?”

Tweek knew his cheeks were red as a beat. Under normal circumstances he would have pushed Craig away, denying it and telling him to _shut up already_ because he wasn’t perfect and Craig knew it. But there was a gleam in those lovely hazel eyes. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it made him believe Craig’s testimony. Maybe Craig saw in Tweek what Tweek saw in Craig; and if that were the case, then hell yeah, Tweek was perfect. “So are you.” he promised.

The spent another hour naked in Craig’s car, peering out the windshield at the stars. Craig accurately named every constellation they saw, and recited a few more because Tweek found it equally nerdy and impressive. Craig had always had a fascination with the solar system and regularly researched it for fun. Though his resources for doing so were limited, he sucked in as much information about the planets and stars and astronomy in general as he could. Tweek loved getting his boyfriend to talk about it, excitement would gleam in his usually completely calm eyes.

“You know what my favorite star is?” Tweek’s small voice asked. Craig grunted in recognition of the inquiry, which provided him with encouragement to continue. He raised his hand and tapped the tip of Craig’s button nose with his fingertip. “You are.”

Craig rolled his eyes, smirking down at his boyfriend and doing the same to Tweek’s tiny, pointy nose. “You know who’s an absolute nerd? You are.”

“Hey, I’m trying to be poetic! Sue me!”

“Maybe I will sue you,” Craig told him, kissing his nose instead that time before he whispered. “For stealing my heart.”

Tweek laughed probably too hard at that and pushed Craig’s face away. When there were no more stars to name, no more god awful pick-up lines to embarrass themselves with, and their nakedness was no longer warm, they decided to put their clothes on and start for home. Their good-bye consisted of at least fifty chaste kisses on the lips and probably thirty love declarations, deeply enthralled in the overly romantic ambiance. They had never felt more in love or more alive than that night.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, man, lemme talk to you for a minute.” Clyde spoke lowly to Craig. There was a hint of urgency in his tone. Craig decided he was slightly interested in what his brunette friend allowed himself to get bent out of shape about _this_ time, and willingly followed him to a less populated hallway of the school.

“What, man?” Craig asked with an eyebrow lifted at Clyde’s unorthodox behavior. He was glancing all around them in a panicked fashion, checking for any suspicious characters that were potentially spying on him and his friend’s incredibly private conversation.

Clyde’s chocolate brown eyes rested back on his taller friend, letting out a deep sigh. “Okay, there’s a word on the street about you, and you gotta tell me it's bullshit, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, what are you blabbering about?”

“Okay, don’t get bent at me for asking. I’m just the messenger. Marsh’s gang has been telling everyone you and Tweek are, uh—soft for each other.”

Craig granted Clyde an annoyed expression at that pathetic euphemism. “Are you blitzed right now?”

“Man, I’m serious! Everything thinks you’re a goddamned fag, and you ain’t even bothered by it?”

Craig put on a good front to disguise the aching in his stomach. He loathed denying his relationship with Tweek with everything in him, but he knew he had no other alternative. He couldn’t trust anyone with the most pertinent secret he had ever possessed. “I ain’t bothered because I know it ain’t true. If Marsh and those assclowns got questions, they can take it up with me personally.”

Clyde let out a quick sigh of relief. “Alright, killer. I was only stressed about it ‘cause you know how Cartman is about homos.”

“Yeah.” Craig chuckled dryly. He knew exactly how the three-hundred pound defensive end for the South Park football team treated homosexuals. He remembered the bloody face of Butters Stotch’s when Eric Cartman thought he _might_ be a homosexual. Cartman was not only the most feared bully in their small town, but the most racist, homophobic, politically incorrect, bigoted psychopath that Craig had ever had the displeasure of meeting. They had despised one another since Craig stood up to him in the third grade, when he wouldn’t allow the Craig-titled “fat tub of lard” steal Tweek’s lunch. That ended in a skill-less fist-fight and a detention for both of them. He wasn’t afraid of Cartman, but he was afraid of his Hitler-esque ability to convince large sums of people to believe one way or another. It wouldn’t be too terribly difficult to accuse Tweek and Craig of being lovers and the fact that it was _true_ gave it that much more terrifying edge. “Where’d you hear it from?”

“Marsh himself, I guess. He was goin’ on about how those Asian girls said you and Tweek always stare at each other like you’re both made of gold, or something like that. They drew pictures of ya, something really queer like that. Broflovski said we’d all know if you two were queer, so that kinda made everyone cool it. But Cartman was having a field day with it, makin’ up stuff like he always does.”

“He’s an idiot.” Craig grumbled, rage towards the fat bully festering inside him like an ignored sore.

“Hey, like you said, nothing to worry your pretty little head about.” Clyde told Craig, tapping his chin and winking at him. The shorter boy turned before he saw Craig’s dirty look and they veered off in opposite directions.

Craig’s mind was clouded with new terrors and horrible daydreams of himself being dragged away kicking and screaming from his beloved coffee-addict. As soon as his eyes landed on Tweek retrieving items from his locker and vibrating with anxiety he had an even stronger urge to surge towards him and capture him in an embrace. He casually ambled to the side of his boyfriend and gave him a forced smile.

“ _Gah!”_ Tweek exclaimed, unsure of what sudden presence invaded his bubble, possibly a thief that’s after the two dollars he acquired from working for his parents. He relaxed when he saw that it was only his favorite person. “Oh, hey, Craig.” he amended. One glance at his boyfriend instantly revealed that something was troubling the tall, dark-haired boy. Tweek frowned and shut the locker harshly to hinder its habit of popping back open on him. “What’s the deal?”

“What do you mean?” Craig replied, distracted by his insecurities.

Tweek perked his head to the side. “You know what I mean, you look hacked off. Did something happen? Are you okay? Did you get a detention again?”

“No, I’m learning to keep my middle finger to myself, mama, I promise.” Craig assured him with a sarcastically proud smile. Tweek rolled his eyes and let the topic die despite his worries as they exited the school building. Shortly after doing so, Craig removed a carton of cigarettes from the pocket of his leather jacket and stuck one between his teeth. Clyde joined them again, Kevin present as well. They started spewing a horror story about seeing Bebe’s side-boob, and you would have thought they struck oil in their backyards. Tweek and Craig attempted to humor them with fake enthusiasm, but the topic of breasts did not particularly entice the two of them. They reached their neighborhood within minutes and started veering off in different directions to reach their own homes, aside from the couple, who were headed to Craig’s house together. After advancing a few blocks, Kevin spun on his heels, excited with almost forgotten information.

“Hey, Tweek and Craig, you goin’ to the dance next Friday?! It’s gonna be tuff. I heard McCormick is performing! Can’t believe his ass is so cheap that he’s gotta take something like playing at a school dance. Hah, guess he doesn’t make enough money as a faggot prostitute.” He spouted.

Craig laughed nervously, “You gotta give blondie some props, he’s got killer pipes. Marsh ain’t half bad at guitar, either. I’m there for sure.”

“Me too. Unless I have to dress up! I hate trying to pick out costumes, I always end up looking terribe!” Tweek spoke with a twitch. Craig patted his back and narrowed his eyes at the blond boy, wondering how he could possibly look terrible.

“Nah, I hear it’s formal, per demand of Wendy," Kevin chuckled, somewhat disappointed by the omission of a Halloween theme so close to the holiday. "See ya guys!" 

It took a lot of self-control for Craig to not lace his fingers around Tweek’s jittering ones to protect him from Kevin’s slur towards Kenny as they strolled the rest of the way to the Tucker residence. He hated how nervous school made Tweek. All of the people, homework, and expectations weighed on him and made his extreme anxiety unbearable. He knew that his touch alone had the power to soothe his boyfriend, who always appeared ready to pop a vein after emerging from any kind of social interaction. He much preferred when Tweek was able to find his center and breathe slower than someone that had just outrun a monster.

As soon as they entered the safety of Craig’s bedroom his lips were against Tweek’s. The blond let out an involuntary yelped of panic at the sudden term of endearment, but easily melted against the comfort of Craig’s mouth pressed to his. When he pulled away Tweek was smiling and relatively calmer. He hummed and swiped his tongue slowly across his lips, tasting the linger moisture Craig’s kiss left behind.

“You look adorable today.” Craig let Tweek know before planting a loving kiss on the tip of his pointy nose.

A ticklish sensation made Tweek crinkle his nose, “I just look how I look every other day.”

“Exactly,” Craig confirmed his assurance in the compliment.

Tweek grinned despite himself and stole another long kiss. “Well, thanks. You do, too.”

Craig hummed and they ceremoniously laid their notebooks on the flimsy wooden desk. Their homework was always neglected until it was absolutely prudent for them to tend to their work. They basked in one another’s presence as long as they could before having to face the responsibilities of high school. The slumped down onto Craig’s bed and fell into one another’s arms. They fit just like a puzzle; Tweek’s arms underneath Craig’s and his face perfectly buried into his shoulder. Craig would swirl his unruly curls in attempts to cease the lesser stage of Tweek’s constant nervousness, which at that point was a slight, steady tremble.

Tweek turned his head to look at the close view of Craig’s profile and laid his cheek back on his shoulder. “Craig, what’s wrong?” He asked for the second time that afternoon, genuinely vexed by Craig’s spacing out. Wordlessly drifting off into his thoughts was his way of detecting the Tucker boy’s inner turmoil. Tweek could pick up on the difference between his usual stoicism and his trouble silence instantly (something he rather prided himself on). 

Tweek’s expression was puppy-like, making Craig grin before he laid his head again his and let out a long sigh. “I’m just wiped out.”

“You know you’re a terrible liar, so why do you even try?”

“I said that I’m fine, okay? Just leave it.” The words were a bit harsher than originally intended.

Tweek was automatically offended and expressed that feeling by pushing myself off of Craig and standing. “Whatever, sorry for fucking caring,”

Craig exhaled deeply, quickly living to regret his short response. “Look, I’m sorry, baby—okay? I know I’m being uncool, I’m just… People are getting suspicious of us.”

Fear immediately hits Tweek’s gut like a swift punch. It’s a familiar feeling that he’ll never get used to. The anguish of the thought renders him immediately ill, and based on this alone he understands Craig’s desire to keep him in the dark. Tweek keeps his back to Craig, trying his damnedest to conceal his anxiousness. “W-What do you mean?”

“Tweek, please, I’m sure it ain’t nothing, baby. Please don’t wig out.”

“I’m not wigging out!” Tweek shot back, a little too quickly. He cleared his throat and faced Craig with stress already woven into his sharp features. “Just—you do realize how _bad_ of a thing that it, right?”

“Yeah, I’m not retarded, Tweek, I know that it isn’t a good thing. The Asian girls—Clyde told me Marsh’s gang made it talk of the town. I told him nothing’s going on, but you know how Cartman is.” Craig huffed, suddenly angry at himself for making an enemy of the sociopathic jerk.

“If you people start to wonder, they’ll start to pay attention, and then they’ll notice me staring at you or checking you out of us making out behind the school or I don’t know! Even in your house! Oh, sweet Jesus, what is they’re spying on us right now!? Go check out the window and see!”

“Tweek, cool your jets! It’s going to be okay!” Craig assured after standing and grabbing the twitching blond by the shoulders.

“No! I can’t cool my goddamn jets, they’re hot and they’re going to stay that way because we’re gonna get found out and then we’re going to get set to prison—“

“Tweek,” Craig tried to intervene, shaking his shoulder gingerly but getting no response.

“And tortured and forced to memorize the Bible cover to cover, and they’ll probably make us take showers in holy water!—“

“ _Tweek_ , baby, please listen to me—“

“No, Craig! I can’t pretend that I’m not in love with you! That is _way_ too much pressure! I’m a terrible actor!” Tweek was practically screaming at that point, making Craig gratefully for his vacant house.

“You can do it, Tweek!” Craig’s voice finally rose above the volume of Tweek’s manic ranting. He cupped the blond’s cheeks and stared intensely into his eyes. “You’re capable of more than you think!”

“ _Gah!_ I don’t even want to be capable of hiding how I feel about you! I want to be able to tell the world like everyone else get to!”

Craig’s fire faltered. There was nothing to offer as an argument, because he had the exact same feelings. Craig sighed deeply, his shoulders falling with his will to debate. Tweek was shaking like an earthquake and dangerously close to tears, the color becoming an even fiercer shade of green with water glossing it over. His tone held the same amount of desperation as his shouting did as he spoke in a whisper. “It’s not fair, Craig. I love you with all of my heart, and I do anything for you. You make me the happiest person in the world. It’s just like what girls can do for some boys. So why’s it so wrong? Why’s it so terrible for me to be in love with you?”

Craig’s heart grew heavy with all the questions that would be left unanswered. He didn’t know. Hell, he figured he knew _less_ than Tweek, who still managed to have somewhat faith in God or a similar divinity. Tweek gave into the sobs that threatened to shake him even harder, collapsing against Craig for comfort that he knew he would find despite everything. Craig instinctively wrapped Tweek up in his long arms carefully, like a wounded bird. He held him tightly as he cried his eyes out and pressed multiple kisses to his cheeks, eyes, nose, and lips. He said nothing and let his boyfriend empty his tear ducts.

He hated the false idea of a monotheistic god for this. He despised the Christian religion with every fiber of his being for being the source of his boyfriend’s body-wracking sobs. He curses the cruel double-standard of society that said it was not only wrong, not only impure, but _unlawful_ to do exactly what he was doing, holding this beautiful boy as he fell apart.

“You’re not doing anything wrong, Tweek.” Craig finally decided on the appropriate response. “This isn’t wrong. They are. They’re so wrong. They follow everything a dusty old book says because they’re afraid. They can’t understand why the sun rises every morning and gets replaced by the moon at night. They don’t know why the grass is green, why the sky is blue, why our skin is different colors, why sometimes girls like girls and boys like boys. So they write their own rules and stories instead of looking at the facts. Someone decided along the way that liking someone the same sex as you because you can’t make babies, and that’s the only reason we’re all alive to them.”

Tweek gazed intently at his boyfriend, tearful choking subsiding enough to hear this epiphany. Craig continued, “But what people don’t understand is that there is no greater purpose. It’s just us; living our lives day by day. The purpose is to live while there’s still blood pumping through your veins. Not to worry about an afterlife. So if a boy loves a girl, they should be able to be together. If that makes them happy, it should be allowed. If a girl falls in love with another girl, it isn’t any different. If a boy falls in love with a sweet, amazing, beautiful boy, it isn’t any different.” Craig was staring back at Tweek then, eyes locked with Tweek’s fingers tracing through his black hair. “I love you, Tweek. I love you so much it burns all over my chest and it makes my head feel all heavy and fuzzy. When I’m home in my bed, I can’t fall asleep right away because I’ll remember something cute you did and I’ll spend an hour just smiling about it. You’re the very first thing that pops into my head when I wake up and the very last thing when I finally fall asleep. You make me _so_ happy. So if that makes me a criminal, I don’t give a rat’s ass. Society can say whatever it wants about me. I love you, and nothing is ever going to make that wrong.”

Tweek was crying again, but these tears were good, happy ones. He was happy because Craig was totally and completely right. A smile stretched his lips, eyes shining with hope. “I love you so much, Craig. More than anything.”

Craig’s grin returned to match his boyfriend’s. “I’m the luckiest idiot in the world.”

“Damn right you are.” Tweek giggled before guiding Craig’s head down to crash against his lips. They kissed passionately, both grinning into it. Tweek withdrew from the kiss to gaze fixedly at the love of his life. He sighed, “Are we gonna be okay, Craig?”

Craig searched Tweek’s face, adoring every detail. “I dunno, kid. I can’t tell you anything for sure. But I do know as long as I always got you I’m gonna be okay. And you can tell I’m being completely up front with you because I never get this pansy unless it’s ‘cause you’re staring at me with those stupid big eyes of your’s.”

“Hey!” Tweek protested, pushing the finger that Craig was attempting to poke his eye with away from his face. “Don’t be a jerk!”

“You dig it.”

Tweek rolled his eyes, unwilling to admit that he certainly did. Instead they kissed, and kissed again until the possibility of a homophobic priest with binoculars was watching them with an exorcism prepared. Of course Tweek was going to continue to worry, and probably never be truly okay after learning that the possibility of them being discovered was nearer than they initially considered, but for that moment, it was okay. Craig’s lips were against his, and his hands were on his waist. Tweek willed himself to focus on those facts alone.

When Craig wasn’t with him was a different story altogether, however.

That night was spent sleepless for Tweek, not even a wink or a ten-minute doze off. His mind was plagued with every possible thing that could go wrong between him and _his_ Craig. He tortured himself with the realization of how quickly everything could have come tumbling down and shattering into a thousand indiscernible pieces. Although Craig’s soliloquy from earlier made more sense than any story from the Bible Tweek was far too aware that they were the only ones with that frame of mind. Even the kind-hearted people at school that wouldn’t harm a fly if their life depended on it believed that a man lying with another man was an abomination. There was not rest for the wicked, and definitely no rest of Tweek Tweak.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for indulging myself in the idea of cute ass sixties kyle in those big ass dorky glasses i couldn't resist  
> and thank you for reading! <3

On the last day of spirit week, and thus Homecoming night, the ambiance was unusually positive in South Park High School. Even those who didn’t have a date could be seen excited by the prospect of letting lose with friend and dancing the night away, eventually ditching school property to continue to partying, the younger peers illegally enjoying the alcohol that their eighteen year-old friends purchased. 

Tweek felt a combination of bitter-sweet excitement and residual terror for the event. Although it was senior year and it should be the most fun, how could he let loose when there were so many people crowding around him? What if someone was carrying a firearm and planned to shoot up the school since everyone was gathered in one room? What if someone was specifically targeting Tweek, ready to stick him in the gut with a switchblade? 

This was Tweek’s third homecoming, as well as all the people he grew up with. Their graduating class was close knit enough that almost all twenty students coordinated outfits for the themed days of spirit week. The way things were was that if you were in Mr. Garrison’s third and fourth grade class, you sort of stuck together. Although they all bickered like sworn enemies, there was an underlying sense of love that everyone shared. It was like additional brothers and sisters—insulting one another until they were blue in the faces, but kicking the crap out of anyone who did the same. Aside from Eric Cartman, of course, who all but maybe two people collectively hated. _Maybe_ two, and Tweek had been doing a project with the person who definitely hated Cartman the most.

“Hello? Earth to Tweek?” An annoyed Kyle Broflovski drew the nervous blond’s attention back to their collaborative French project.

“ _Gah!_ What? Oh, s-sorry, Kyle.” Tweek apologized sheepishly, doing his damnedest to contain his twitches for the redhead’s sanity sake.

“Need me to clue you in on the five minutes I spent talking to a brick wall about what we should do for or presentation or were you paying any kind of attention?” He retorted, pushing his large-framed glasses to the bridge of his crooked nose.

No one was more anal about schoolwork than Kyle Broflovski. He had been tracking his GPA since the third grade and wore dress-clothes every day as to not “distract himself with comfort”. He often preached about how hard it was to get ahead in this world and that education isn’t something to take lightly. Of course, most people either ignored these tangents or (not so) kindly told him to shut the hell up. Working with him was a lot of pressure for Tweek.

“Uh—you said that we, uh… _Gah_ , we should—“

“Ah, geez.” Kyle interrupted his stammering with a face-palm. He grunted, “Pull your head out of your ass, man, it isn’t a helmet!”

“Hey, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t sleep good last night, don’t be such a drag.” Tweek defended himself with furrowed eyebrows.

Feeling only slightly guilty, Kyle decided to apologize, “Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just stressed out. I have so much work to do.”

Tweek frowned at his friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t sweat it. Are you goin’ to the dance tonight?”

“There’s no way.” Kyle sighed and shook his head from side to side. “I have to study. I’m sure everyone will have a gas, though.”

“Aww, c’mon, Kyle! I’m sure it won’t kill you to take a little break. You don’t wanna miss Stan and Kenny perform, do you?” Tweek bargained, eyebrows lifted.

This argument was a convincing one, considering those two boys were about the only things outside of getting into a decent college that Kyle truly cared about. “I’ll think about it. Only for Kenny, though. Wendy’s got some hang-up with Stan and I haven’t heard the end of it for a billion years, it seems.”

Tweek perked his head confusedly. “They’re goin’ steady again?”

“Yup.” Kyle spoke with distaste, popping the ‘p’. “Sixth time now.”

“Unsurprising,” Tweek muttered.

Wendy Testaburger was the student body president and head of several various clubs, while Stan Marsh was the quarterback and captain of the football team. Society thought it illogical for the two not to be in a relationship, but they seemed to have trouble staying that way. Wendy was outspoken and opinionated where Stan was laid back and diplomatic. She was a fighter, and he was an average teenage male that cared little for anything beyond his interests. This caused numerous and infamous altercations between the two lovers (if you could even call them that), but they always fell back into the same pattern. If you asked Kyle, Stan was guilt tripped in every single time, but nobody really cared about the biggest nerd in school’s opinion. The only reason he had a smidge of credibility was because Stan Marsh said not to shove him in lockers and steal his lunch money. This frustrated Kyle immensely; he didn’t understand why people couldn’t simply accept the fact that sometimes opposites distract.

With that being said, it was always a suspicion of Tweek’s that Kyle’s feelings for Stan were the ones he had for Craig. He fiercely defended Stan’s honor and integrity anytime it was compromised and followed him through life with unwavering loyalty. They were peanut butter and jelly, best friends since birth. But, not all best friends spent a little too long glancing right into one another’s eyes and with Stan’s arm almost constantly draped around his shoulder. Other than easy access to test answers, it was the only socially logical explanation for their long-standing friendship.

“Well, you should come anyhow. Just ignore Testa-bitch.” Tweek said humorously.

This made Kyle chuckle. “Shit, Tweek, you don't hear that from you often. Stan's just as bad.”

Tweek smiled, but it soon faded back into his generally panicked expression. “Don’t tell anyone that I said that! She might want to fight me!”

“Secrets safe with me. _Maintenant, faite attention_!” Kyle used the language they were supposed to be studying. Tweek reigned in his rouge thoughts and did his best to comply with Kyle’s grueling attention to detail.

Tweek and Craig routinely met up when the class had ended. When he easily caught sight of his giant of a boyfriend, he grinned brightly at him. He kept his voice low, just in case anyone around him could translate, “Bonjour, mon beau copain.”

Craig cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talkin’ all Italian for?”

Tweek barked a laugh, “It’s _French_ , ding-a-ling.”

“I’m a ding-a-ling for not knowing what the hell a _bow campaign_ is?”

Tweek rolled his eyes, leaning into Craig’s shoulder before whispering. “ _Beau copain_ , you dork! It means handsome boyfriend. Doesn't your family speak Spanish?! Isn't it pretty similar?"

“Ah, then, thanks, baby,” Craig returned with a wink. They shared a chuckle before he addressed the second question, “And I know, like, four phrases of Spanish from my _abuela_. My _abuelo_ wouldn't let my mom or anyone learn Spanish, 'cause they couldn't even get jobs hardly 'til they learned English. In fact, he actually doesn't even want us to call him that. He likes grandpops,"

"Oh," Tweek deflated, the answer triggering a memory of Craig's grandparent's cheerful faces and broken English.

"You excited for Homecoming?” Craig changed the topic.

“I don’t know.” Tweek replied.

Craig granted him a confused expression. “It ain’t rocket science, darling.”

“Well, I mean, yes, I’m excited to hang out with everyone and watch Clyde get suspended for trying to spike the punch bowl again, but on the other hand it’s terrifying because anything could happen in a room full of sweaty people. What if someone tries to rape me or something horrible like that? I don’t know who I can trust!” Tweek elaborated, glancing from side to side.

“You need to lay off the caffeinated beverages, mine beau copain.” Craig scoffed. “It’s gonna be tuff and you’re gonna dance and we’re gonna throw tomatoes at McCormick and Marsh.”

Tweek gave him an incredulous look. “We ain’t gonna do that.”

“You just wanna suck the joy out of everything, don’t you?” Craig retorted ironically with a slight smirk before waving goodbye as he slipped into his next classroom.

Tweek watched him do so, biting his smile as he scanned his eyes along his boyfriend’s long legs. He had almost forgotten how good his ass looks in blue jeans. Thoughts of putting his hands in Craig’s back pockets seeped into his train of thought before a crushing realization took over his pleasurable mood.

He wasn’t going to be able to slow dance with Craig Tucker.

_

“How _long_ does it take to put a damn shirt on, anyway?” Clyde wondered aloud with a groan. He and Craig were impatiently waiting for their anxious friend who couldn’t seem to decide which color of the same button-down shirt was appropriate Homecoming attire.

Craig shot him a glare. “Lay off, kid’s nervous.”

“When is he _not_ nervous? Dude couldn’t be cool if he was layin’ in a tub of ice!” Clyde spoke louder this time so the blond would hear him through the walls. “Speed it up, dude, Bebe’s wearin’ a sleeveless dress!”

“ _Gah!_ I’m going as fast as I can!” Tweek’s reply came in a panicked shout.

Craig put his hands deep in the pockets of his best dark denim jeans. “What’s so good about that? Her folks don’t give two licks how she dresses. Plus, it’s nothing we don’t see every football game.”

“Okay, but have you _seen_ her jugs in a dress? Heaven is for real.” Clyde replied dreamily. Craig was tempted to vomit.

Finally, and thankfully before Clyde began climbing the walls, Tweek emerged from his bedroom clad in a simple, green button-down shirt that was slightly too big for him and a nice pair of blue jeans. The color adorning his torso exaggerated the unique color of his big, beautiful eyes. Craig’s heart fluttered with pride. This was much better than Bebe Stevens’s dress.

“It’s about damn time!” Clyde exclaimed and trekked out in the direction of Craig’s car.

Before Tweek could get back into their friend’s line of sight, Craig dragged him into secrecy by the wrist and stole a chaste kiss. Tweek responded by cupping Craig’s cheeks and grinning into the gesture. Craig said, “You look amazing.”

“Same goes.” Tweek complimented with a flustered grin, tapping Craig’s round nose before pushing himself away and heading after Clyde. Craig took a moment to wonder how he got so damn lucky before following the other boy’s lead.

The drive there consisted of Tweek spewing possible disasters that could have occurred on that night while Clyde and Craig argued over the music choice. On arriving at the school, Craig parked his car in an open slot on the side of the road, earning a raised eyebrow from Clyde. “Why the hell are you puttin’ your wheels on the street?”

Craig scoffed, flicking his lighter and igniting the end of his cigarette. “I’m a lot less worried about street people then a bunch of loaded assclowns. I’m staying the hell away from everyone else’s rides tonight. Anything happens to this car, my old man’ll kill me.”

“Eh, I’ll bite. I hear that French exchange student, Christophe, got his paws on absinthe.” Clyde declared with a laugh as the three piled out of the vehicle.

Tweek’s eyes went saucer-sized. “That’s illegal, man!”

Clyde shrugged. “So is drinking in general for half of us. Has that ever stopped anyone in South Park before?”

“Kyle,” Tweek answered.

“That square doesn’t even count! He’s got about as much personality as the dirt I stomp off my treads at the end of the day.” Clyde scoffed, Craig laughing in agreement.

“And diabetes,” Tweek mumbled pointlessly, instantly realizing that fact did not increase his coolness factor.

They all dished out five cents to purchase a ticket on entering the school, and then headed into the gymnasium, where the party had already begun. Despite the three boy’s collective dislike for Wendy, they couldn’t deny she was an effective leader of the student body. The theme was only a little cliché; _A Night Beneath the Stars_. Shimmering aluminum stars hung from the ceiling and all the tables were equipped with dark blue cloth to represent the night sky. Couples were getting their pictures taken in front of a seven-foot cardboard crescent moon replica. Tweek nudged Craig with his elbow, “Can you dig this, space dork?”

Craig rolled his eyes and remained unwilling to admit anything involving school was something he enjoyed. “It’s less lame than last year.”

“There’s that positive attitude I love about you.” Tweek chuckled.

They had been there for a grand total of two minutes and had already managed to lose Clyde, although Craig was fairly certain he had gone on a witch hunt for attractive girls to gawk at. Close to a hundred of their fellow peers (which was nearly the entire school population) were enjoying the electrifying buzz, dancing casually to the lyric-less music that rang through the low quality speakers. Everyone was waiting for the live band to really let loose. Evidence of that fact was the dozen of girls that lined up before the stage, anxiously waiting to receive charming winks from Kenny McCormick as he sang.

This was what the poorest boy in their town did—he sang. And when he wasn’t singing, he was juggling his newspaper vending occupation with school and practically raising his younger sister. Despite all this, he still managed to be the indisputably most attractive boy in their town and effortlessly receive the most female attention. Jealous boys created rumors about him—that he would perform hand magic for a quarter and do anything for a dollar—but nothing deterred anyone from admiring his kindred spirit and natural beauty. Even Craig couldn’t find it within him to dislike the McCormick boy.

“Don’t drink the punch.” Tweek warned his boyfriend with a serious expression.

Interest piqued, Craig lifted an eyebrow at him. “Why not, baby?”

“Why not?!” Tweek repeated, appalled. “Someone could have a disease! Or someone could have spiked it! I don’t trust it. Remember what Clyde said? Absinthe can kill you! And I really ain’t looking to be in a relationship with a dead person.”

“Anything can kill you, Tweekers. Good thing I got all my sick shots young.” Craig smirked then headed to the punch bowl despite the blond’s anxiety-ridden protests.

A few moments prior to him slapping a drink out of Craig’s hand, pubescent squeals startled Tweek. He jumped, twitched, "Did someone get shot!?”

Craig’s eyes went wide. “That ain’t somethin’ you wanna shout, kid.”

Tweek cupped his hands over his mouth, blushing. “Sorry.”

Craig just chuckled and slung an arm around Tweek’s shoulders, attempting to make the act look a platonic as possible in case Cartman decided to disturb their peace at some point. While Tweek was contemplating his chances of being murdered, Craig was secretly still stressing about something happening to the secrecy of their relationship. He had assured Tweek numerous times that everything was positively under control, lying through his teeth. He earned heated glares from the fat bully whenever he saw the two lovers side-by-side. It wasn’t a comforting sight.

“Relax, it’s just some skirts creamin’ over McCormick setting up.”

Tweek scoffed, “They act like he’s Elvis friggin’ Presley.”

“Please, you know he gets you all hot and bothered.”

Tweek scoffed. “I think you’re confusing me with yourself, darling.”

Craig thought about it, and then shrugged. “What can I say? I gotta thing for blonds.” He really wanted to kiss Tweek’s forehead, but he refrained.

Tweek only smiled and watched the animated poor kid skip onto the stage. Cheers arose and Stan soon followed with a beautiful acoustic guitar around his neck, and then a junior boy claimed the drum set. Kenny grinned enthusiastically when his mouth met the microphone. “What’s happenin’, South Park High? It’s fuckin’—oh shit, I can’t say that. Fuck, I said shit! Oh, god.”

Everyone chuckled along with the blond, who swatted his face with his hand onstage. He recovered quickly and let his cute chuckle ring through the room. “Alright, we’re gonna kick things off with somethin’ fun. I wanna see everyone dance holes in their shoes!”

The crowd shifted towards the open space. Couples found one another and began dancing to the beat of Kenny’s smooth singing the new hit “Kicks” by Paul Revere and The Raiders. Everyone was twisting and laughing—not including Craig, Tweek, and Kyle, who had his nose stuck in a textbook. The boyfriends hung back and made casual conversation. Neither of them were very social people.

Kenny was aware of that fact, and about two songs later he decided to interfere with their agenda. With a smirk, he said into the microphone. “Now, I see everyone up and dancin’ besides some of my good friends over there. Kyle, Craig, and Tweek, get your asses on the dance floor, you fuckin’ squares!”

“Kenny, stop fucking swearing!” Stan hissed, then stopped to realize he had used the exact same word Kenny continuously let slip inadvertently.

Craig lifted his middle finger towards the stage and Kyle didn’t even glance up from his homework. Kenny only laughed. “Aw, they’re shy. Help ‘em out, guys! C’mon, I wanna see those three let their hair down!”

Mindlessly obliging, a congregation of their classmates darted towards the boys. Tweek’s anxiety switch was flipped and he began shivering with fear, while Craig simply refused to move. “I don’t dance.” He told Clyde with a hard glare as Butters successfully coaxed Kyle onto the dance floor.

“Don’t be such a drag! C’mon, ya fuckin’ greaser!”

Craig’s hazel gaze landed on his nervous boyfriend who was throwing his head back in laughter as their crippled friend, Jimmy Valmer, attempted to teach him how to hand jive. Craig’s lips curled into an involuntary smile, forgetting that he was supposed to be a stubborn asshole. Clyde took advantage of this rare moment of weakness and tightened his fingers around the taller boy’s wrist, pulling him with all his strength in the direction of their peers. Everyone whooped when Kenny had effectively gotten the buzzkills to have some fun, even if Craig only shifted from side to side through one song.

“Aright, ladies and gents, we’re gonna slow things down for a bit, can you dig? Good, ‘cause you ain’t got a choice. This is a little rendition of the Fab Four’s song Stan and I put together.” Kenny announced before Stan’s fingers expertly plucked a slowed version of “I Wanna Hold Your Hand”.

Craig watched in amusement as Tweek let none other than Ruby Tucker dance with him. His arms were crossed across his chest, leaning against a wall and watching the horribly awkward scene. Tweek had his arms around her slim waist, trying to grant her friendly and comfortable smiles as she gazed at him like he were the last person alive, her arms curled around his neck. His little sister had always had a crush on Tweek, so this would probably go down in history as the best day of her fifteen-year-old life so far. Craig found it extremely ironic that of all his guy friends, Ruby leaned towards _his_ boyfriend. Finding Tweek absolutely adorable must run in the family.

“You just gonna stay glued to the wall while little sis takes your man, Tucker?” The condescending voice that Craig was never happy to hear asked from beside him.

Craig turned to give Eric Cartman the most hate-filled glare he could muster. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Because last time I checked this was America, which means my freedom of speech covers talking to assholes like you whenever I want.”

“Fuck off.” Craig retorted, waving his right hand and returning his attention to Kenny’s impressive vocals.

Cartman puffed out a scoff, leaning against the same wall with an outstretched arm, “I know everyone in this shithole of a town ain’t got enough sense to sense what’s goin’ on between you two, but I happen to be a genius. It’s really fucking disgusting, Craig. The way you look at him and touch him,”

Craig begged the universe that his cheeks weren’t as hot as his ears were. A burning rage boiled inside of him and all he wanted to do was shove his foot directly up Cartman’s ass. “You like to picture us touching, huh, tubby?”

“Ey, I’m seriously, Craig! Fuckin’ asshole! I know you’re queer, and you can just come out with it, or I’ll start spillin’ it to more than just other kids. There’s an easy way out of this.” Cartman’s tone was threatening, making Craig even angrier.

He turned, index finger firmly pressed against the shorter but larger boy’s chest. “Let me make this plain and simple enough for even you to understand. There is nothin’ funny goin’ on between me and Tweek. He’s like a little brother, capisce? Keep your nose out of my business.”

Cartman was not fazed in the slightest by Craig’s increase of aggression. In fact, it encouraged him. He loved nothing more than getting under people’s skin. He leaned in closer, face fixed in a fearless expression. “Suit yourself, fag. But I tried to be civil. If I ever catch you swappin’ saliva with Twitchy like the disgusting cocksucker you are, I’ll take care of it myself.”

Craig shuddered at this threat, but refused to show his vexation to the bully. Instead he raised his middle finger at Cartman before spinning on his heels and ambling away. He didn’t mean to trot so quickly to the punch bowl, but he did, the need to separate himself from Cartman almost intoxicating him. His mind swarmed with uncertainty. How was Cartman so sure that he and Tweek were together? They were nothing but careful in public, and they recently restricted any kind of physical contact to their bedrooms. There was no logical explanation for the terrorizer to have affirmative knowledge of their relationship.

Although, Craig wouldn’t put it past him to watch them through a window.

“Hey,” Tweek greeted breathily, managing to startle Craig with his sudden appearance. Tweek laughed at the irony—that situation occurred the other way around normally. “You gonna live?”

Craig gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Maybe.”

Tweek was confused by this answer, but let the topic die. The rest of the night was spent socializing with the peers that they actually liked, a surprisingly enthusiastically supportive reaction from Wendy when Bebe Stevens and Stan Marsh were crowned Homecoming royalty, and Craig drowning in his overbearing thoughts. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: violence, slight gore, homophobic slurs, nasty ass cartman

Craig casually hummed to the tune of the new-ish Rolling Stones song that emitted softly through a small radio behind the counter, handing the cashier of his favorite drug store a quarter in exchange for a fresh pack of cigarettes. After a polite exchange of pleasantries, he exited the store, humming becoming mumbling beneath his breath, “I see a red door and I wanna paint it black,”

Though the air was crisp and refreshing, the freezing Colorado winter had taken root and made Craig wish his father’s vehicle belonged to solely _him_. The Christmas season quickly creeping up on the town as Thanksgiving had come and past, the school semester also reaching the peak of stress as impending exams ensued. Despite the thick sheets of snow everywhere and increased school work, things with Tweek had been so good then that he had begun to disregard Cartman’s threats again. He submerged himself in the everyday adventure that it was to be in love, even secretly so.

He routinely turned into an alley on the way back to his home from the store, spirits high with good music playing in his head to the thoughts of seeing his lover soon; however, his good feelings were swiftly squashed and replaced with a sinking feeling in his stomach when his eyes fell upon the sight of three classmates of his pressed up against a wall beside a snow-covered dumpster. Eric Cartman was waiting for him, flanked by his good friend, Kevin Stoley, and the second most intolerant redneck in South Park, Jason White. He wracked his mind for any slip-ups he could have made with Tweek as the sneering congregation stepped in his direction.

“There he is,” Cartman sang in a mockingly sweet tone, snake-like smile curling his lips. “My favorite abomination.”

Craig reverted to his usual defense mechanism of denial. He rolled his eyes and strode fearlessly towards them. “What do you want, fatass? I ain’t got time for this.”

“Sorry to hold ya up, but I never cop out of my promises. I told you if I see that queer shit you got going on with Tweek again, I’m gonna do somethin’ about it myself.” Cartman spat, leering at Craig as if he were a walking blaze of hellfire itself. He entered his personal bubble and glare, his horrible personality punctuated by his disturbing halitosis. “And I just so happened to see you two exchanin’ gum. Without your hands.”

“You’re seriously fucking stupid, man,” Craig scoffed, reeling away from the large teenager’s presence. He was undeniably nervous, but refused to be transparent. “You get knocked in the konk when you were a baby?”

“Quit flippin’ the subject, Craig.” Kevin suddenly spouted. His expression appeared angered—betrayed.

Craig let out another indignant huff. “You really believe Cartman? He’s a fuckin’ snap case and you know it!”

“It’s _wrong_ , Craig!” Kevin nearly shouted. “Cartman is right on this one. He said you was kissin’ over by your house. I can’t believe you’d do something like that. What would your old man think? Your poor old lady?”

There were so many things Craig could return with, but he bit his tongue as he had learned was best to do majority of the time. He waved his hand dismissively and shook his head. “Whatever, you dorks are fuckin’ crazy, and I gotta get home.” He attempted to saunter passed the small regime of his homophobic peers but his travel was impeded by Jason side-stepping in front of him and shoving him back, eyebrows furrowed. Craig’s guard rose along with his heartrate, deeply hoping things didn’t have to get physical. Growing up only half-Caucasian, it was not his first time being jumped. His heart retched at Tweek’s inevitable reaction. 

“Do you know what happens to homosexuals, Tucker?” Cartman inquired. When Craig turned, he found that Cartman and Kevin were a mere foot from his person. Their stance insisted that they were looking for a fight. “They burn in Hell for eternity. It’s punishment for their crimes against God’s word.”

“Look, how many times I gotta tell you I ain’t like that? Tweek’s only my best friend. It ain’t like that.” Craig’s panic was more evident on his exterior now, and it worsened tenfold when Jason suddenly grasped both his arms and harshly held them behind his back. He struggled to free himself immediately. “Get the fuck off!”

“I’m gonna beat the queer out of you.” Cartman snarled before delivering his promise, and a hard blow to Craig’s stomach.

Craig folded forward in both astonishment and pain. Cartman’s threats were generally never reached fruition, so he was extremely unprepared for an altercation—especially when he was pinned down from the start. The next thing he knew was a powerful sock to the eye. His head turned with the punch, a deep huff escaping his mouth and echoing through the alley.

“Leviticus 20:13,” Cartman began in an unforgiving, mocking tone. The next hit to the face caused his tooth to create a gash in the interior of his cheek. Craig’s taste-buds were invaded by a metallic flavor. “If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood _shall be_ upon them.”

Craig’s desperate hazel eyes averted to the accomplice that he called a friend just minutes prior to this situation. He tried to convey his need for help and understanding to Kevin, but was unable. Kevin’s expression remained stone-cold with underlying vexation. Although he had no intentions of stopping Cartman, he was unaware that violence would ensue.

“So, what have we learned today, Tucker?” Cartman questioned, folding his hands behind his back.

Craig peeled his eyelids away from each other and continued his meager fray for freedom from Jason’s hold. His gaze was saturated with pure hatred for the Nazi that stood menacingly before him. Knowing Cartman indubitably had the upper hand, he wouldn’t allow him to claim his dignity, too. He spit the blood that accumulated inside his mouth straight at the bully’s face. “I learned that you’re fuckin’ psychotic.”

Cartman’s features twitched with fury. He swiped the reddened saliva from his cheek and growled, appalled, “ _Fuck_! You disgusting skuzz!”

This stunt earned him another hardened blow to the face. He grumbled, more blood oozing from his opened mouth, “Are ya done yet? I think my stomach could use a good kick. What-say, Kevin?” Craig addressed his so-called friend in a gruff tone. He refused to show the agony he felt—his eye was already beginning to swell up and a bruise was forming on his abdomen. He gaped fiercely at the short, black-haired boy that stood unspeaking behind Cartman. Kevin simply held his gaze for a moment before turning away and clearing his throat.

“Fuck you, Craig.”

Finally, Jason’s grasp loosened enough for Craig to weasel out of. Anger surging through him, he pushed himself away from one of the antagonists and addressed the main one, “You’re a rat, Cartman.”

Cartman smiled sarcastically. He plunged his hands deep inside the pockets of his red-coat promptly after snapping his fingers. The two prodigies fell in line behind him as if rehearsed. “A rat that’s going to Heaven. Remember this, Tucker. I ain’t bluffin’. And I ain’t afraid to do it again.”

Craig watched in utter bafflement as the three turned and strutted out of the alley. Frankly, he was surprised he got off as easy—although, being ambushed and given a black eye was not _easy_ —considering Cartman’s heartlessness. In the moment he felt as though the throws would keep coming for the rest of his existence. Although he would never confess, he was terrified.

He clutched his injured belly and groaned. The aching was constant and his eye began to throb. There was no spring in his step when he began trekking once again in pursuit of his home, wincing with every drag of his cigarette. The sole reason he did no toss himself in bed and stay there for the rest of the day was his scheduled meeting with Tweek.

Changing his clothing was the biggest challenge. He was hindered by the twisting soreness rising in his abdomen. When his t-shirt was discarded in the comfort of his bedroom, he scrutinized his condition. There was an oval-shaped grey-blue mark above his belly button. He frowned and poked it gingerly. He hissed, recoiling and deciding to not touch it again.

He took a quick shower to wash the blood from his skin, the hot water pleasant against his tense muscles and harsh against his bruised face. Hair left to fall in a fringe across his forehead and clad in a new outfit, Craig ducked out of his home hastily as to not raise the suspicion and concern of his parents for sporting a puffy eye and split lip. He wasn’t sure whether they would truly care or not, but he also wasn’t willing to risk it. After shrugging on a coat, gloves, and his favorite blue, knit chullo, he rushed to Stark’s Pond, where he and his boyfriend agreed to meet earlier that day. His aura was sour and a cloud of anxiety followed him the entirety of the walk. He had a throbbing need for Tweek’s comforting presence.

On reaching the neighborhood pond Craig found that Tweek had already arrived, bundled up almost beyond recognition; though his shock of messy, yellow curls remained on display as a reminder of the boy’s dislike of wearing hats. He sat on the lone bench that looked out onto the small body of water. The low climate rendered it perpetually frozen over, even thick enough to ice-skate on in the chill of early December. It was a peaceful destination, and Tweek and Craig often took advantage of the solitude.

Craig wordlessly claimed a seat beside Tweek, who was unsurprisingly startled by his sudden presence. The blond gasped, horrified by his boyfriend’s condition, instinctually and tenderly grasping his face in his glove-clad hands. “What the hell happened to your eye?!”

“Hang loose,” Craig’s grunted unenthusiastically, gingerly removing Tweek’s hands from his jawline.

“Oh, no! Don’t even try to make this less than it is!” Tweek warned, plucking the winter hat from his head to get a better look at the injuries adoring his handsome face. Several gasps fell from his lips before he demanded, “Who did this? Why? What happened? Did you get in a hassle? Do they know where you live?”

“Baby, please, be cool,” Craig sighed. He let his gaze connect with Tweek’s perturbed stare. His brain juxtaposed the softness of Tweek’s expression and the sincere, caring gleam in his eyes to Cartman’s void brown one’s and Kevin’s listless scowl. It was so relieving that he could cry. “Thank you for being worried, but all I want right now is to be with my boyfriend. Can we talk about this later?”

Tweek’s eyebrows knit together. “Craig, how hard is it to just tell me? I just can’t stand to see you hurtin’ like this! Tell me who did this, I’ll fucking end them!”

Craig chuckled softly with a warm smile spreading his lips. Instead of replying, he leaned in and attached his lips to Tweek’s. The blond sighed softly, but melded into the term of endearment and dragged a hand through Craig’s thick hair—grease-free, per rare occurrence. When Craig drew back he left his nose pressed against Tweek’s. Their gazes met and the fear and rage in Craig’s heart slowly dissipated.

“I love you so much.”

Tweek blushed, simpered. “I love you, too.”

Craig hummed, leaning into press his lips to Tweek’s ear. The blond shuttered, planting his hands on Craig’s shoulders for support. “Prove it.”

“Wh-What?” Tweek exhaled, equally aroused and confused.

The dark-haired boy smirked. He pulled away and gave Tweek a lust-filled look before rising to his feet and insisting Tweek follow his lead. “Your folks aren’t at home, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tweek confirmed. He still very much wished to know what had gotten into Craig, and what _happened_ to him, but he went along with the charade. “They’re visitin’ my gramma up in Denver.”

“Good.” Craig told himself. When they reached civilization, their hands detached to conceal their sinful relationship. They engaged in nonchalant small talk on their way to the Tweak residence and instantaneously intertwined once concealed from the public. It was moments like these that Tweek was grateful for being an only child.

Hungry lips pressed and slid along each other in a desperate need for as much contact with as physics would allow. The only reason they would ever separate is if another article of clothing needed to be torn from their bodies. In record time both boys were in only underwear on Tweek’s mattress, the blond hovering over his boyfriend.

Tweek was preoccupied with applying kisses to every inch of Craig’s neck, but it was inevitable that he would notice the large contusion that adorned Craig’s stomach. He gulped, jolting up in astonishment and uneasiness. “Babe, what happened?”

Craig groaned, “No, shh, keep it up with the kissin’, that was better.”

“Craig.”

“Tweek.”

Tweek sat up and folded his arms over his chest. He gazed seriously down at his boyfriend. “You’re not getting _none_ until you explain why you’re all bruised up. You can’t just do this to me!”

“Really?” Craig huffed. “I said I didn’t wanna talk about it.”

“And I don’t care. You’re gonna tell me what happened to you if I gotta beat it out of you!” It was an empty threat, obviously, but Craig deduced that his position was unwavering.

Craig paused, drinking in the angelic sight of Tweek’s nearly naked body. His skin was pallor and smooth. Despite the fact that Craig had the uncanny ability to banish his boyfriend’s unease, Tweek’s entirety vaguely vibrated due to his anxiety this situation gifted him. His belly was plump, and there was no separation between his thighs. Craig found the slight thickness of his torso and legs absolutely tantalizing and he drooled over his body for as long as he could before Tweek demanded to be acknowledged. “Craig!”

“Alright, alright, don’t lose your cool.” Craig gave in reluctantly. “I was headin’ home today and Cartman, Kevin, and Jason jumped me.”

“Oh my god! I fucking knew it!” Tweek huffed dramatically, “Kevin _Stoley_?”

“The very same.”

“Wow,” Tweek scoffed, shaking his head. “You think you know a guy. Why’d they do it?!”

Craig paused. He wondered if he should quickly craft a lie to soothe his boyfriend’s concern, but there was no other logical reason for fibbing. “Because they say they know about us.”

“Oh, no.” Tweek’s cupped his hand over his mouth. His because saucers, pupils reverting to tiny dots. He began to slide off of Craig. “Oh, no, no, no…”

“Hey, it’s okay, baby.” Craig attempted to reign in the smaller boy’s fretfulness. He sat upright and caught his waist in an embrace before he could roll away from Craig’s body. “Listen, it’s all good. Okay? Don’t get all bent out of shape. I know it looks bad—“

“Please, stop talking.” Tweek interrupted with his fingers against Craig’s lips. His eyes carried a stern authenticity. “I fucking love you, Craig Tucker, and I’m going to get bent out of shape about you! And I know that society says that ain’t okay, and hell, for all I know, maybe it ain’t. But I do know that it is never gonna be okay for three bullies to gang up on you and give you a shiner and a bruised stomach! That’s not okay at all!”

“Calm down—“

“Stop telling me to fucking calm down! What if this happens again? What if it happens to me, too? What if they keep doing this and you _still_ refuse to admit that it’s a problem?! Oh, I’m gonna fucking murder Cartman! I’m gonna stick that sick son of a bitch! Why is it he’s barely said a word to me about all this and he’s stalking you down in town, beating the shit outta you?!”

Craig thought about it momentarily, allowing his realization to be verbalized instantly, “I’m not white,”

Tweek stopped in his tracks, sucking in a shaky breath, “Oh, Craig, you really think?”

“I know,” Craig puffed, touching his tongue to the cut inside his cheek, “You know what happened to Token.”

How could Tweek forget? Their friend, Token Black, was imprisoned and his family were driven out of South Park due to Cartman’s violent racism. After years of constant harassment presented in various, horrifying ways, the young African American boy finally snapped and got involved in a nearly fatal altercation with the tyrant. Neither of the boys had been there for Cartman to pull a gun on their friend, shooting him in the arm, so, so close to ending his life before it had really even begun. After a fruitless investigation in which the police department found that Cartman was merely acting in self-defense and jailed Token for attacking him, the Blacks were forced out of the town, labeled violent and dangerous. Tweek had missed him immensely, wishing they could visit the juvenile detention center he was sent to and offer condolences and comfort, but they would probably never know where he was.

Horrifying images of Craig enduring a similar fate made him feel faint. “We need to move.”

“Tweek, c’mon, now, it isn’t a problem yet, we’re okay! It’s just me! If it happened to you, it’d be different!”

“Have you lost your damn mind?! _Why,_ Craig!? Why would it be different at all?!”

“Because!” Craig’s voice was raised to meet Tweek’s tone, which it seldom did—his diplomacy always ended their skirmishes by shushing Tweek and coaxing him into relaxation. “Because you’re you, and you matter!”

“So do you, Craig, you selfish asshole! Don’t you dare say you don’t!”

Craig didn’t realize he was breathing heavily until he quit talking. His chest heaved in and out; Tweek’s inhaling and exhaling synced with his. Tweek’s green irises contained a desperate look as well as brimming tears. He frantically shifted his gaze between Craig’s eyes. When he spoke again is was in a breathy whisper, “You’re my everything. You are so fucking important to me. Every time we ain’t together I wish we were. Anytime I see that fucking lunatic, Cartman, I get torn up because I know he knows. Hell, just wakin’ up in the morning makes me scared! I’m terrified of everything and I always have been, and I don’t know why. But, I know that you take it all away. You’re my _everything_. And if you’re black and blue, don’t you dare get bent at me for wanting to know who hurt my everything.”

The other boy was rendered speechless. Hazel eyes delivered the message for him. Tweek knew he understood and felt the same. The blond gingerly pushed Craig back against the mattress and straddled his hips. Gentle lips place a kiss beside Craig’s bruised eye. Then his nose, lips, both of his cheeks, and on their way down his neck. Craig couldn’t help but grin and flutter his eyes shut.

Tweek slowly reached the mark on Craig’s stomach and granted it several small pecks. His fingertips brushed softly against Craig’s ribcage as Tweek scanned his eyes along his boyfriend’s body. His dark skin was so rich and beautiful to Tweek, who found it unimaginable that it could be a cause of his worsened treatment. His flat stomach was smooth and possessed a small amount of muscle. Being able to call every portion of this boy _his_ gave Tweek a sense of superiority over everyone. He knew that nobody—no girl or boy—would ever trace his v-line like Tweek could. Nobody could kiss his tummy and squeeze his thighs and know the taste of his lips like Tweek could.

The thought of Cartman trying to take this away from him made his blood boil. He knew he wouldn’t survive such a loss.

After orally pleasuring his boyfriend, Tweek was pinned against the mattress and returned the favor. Their hunger for one another had not yet been satisfied, and they kissed vigorously until Tweek found the nerve to inquire, “Craig?”

“Hmm?” Craig barely responded, busied with the task of pressing kisses to Tweek’s jawline.

Tweek was a bit embarrassed but he reminded himself over and over that this was Craig, and looking past the boyfriend title now, they had been the closest of friends since they were four years old. There was no bridge too shaky to cross. “You know that thing that gay people do that’s like girl sex but not?”

Craig quirked an eyebrow at him, perplexed, “Huh?”

Tweek’s cheeks were apple red. “Y’know, uh… One of the boys puts his _hmm_ in the other’s _mhmm_.”

It took every inch of Craig’s willpower not to laugh. “Anal?”

Tweek cringed at the terminology. “Okay, yes, I hate that word, stop.”

“You wanna try it?”

Tweek shrugged, stowing his gaze anywhere but Craig’s face. He very much wished he had said nothing. He was reassured by Craig’s lips against his cheek, then his voice whispering. “So do I,”

The blond faced him again. He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I dunno how, really, but I just…”

“It’ll take care of you, baby.” Craig promised. They kissed tenderly and it severed as their mutual agreement to go for it. Craig pulled back to whisper, “Whenever you’re ready, you just let me know.”

“Maybe… tomorrow?”

Craig’s heart slammed against his chest at the notion, but let his desire put him on autopilot, “Fuck, okay,”

Tweek pursed his lips sheepishly, and threw an arm around Craig’s bare chest, staring at his handsome face. Craig turned to return the gaze to find Tweek’s still flushed and beautiful as ever. The blond lifted a finger to trace his features, forcing Craig’s to flutter shut. They stayed like that until a noise from downstairs made both of them sick with fear.

The front door opened, and the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Tweak’s voices could be heard. “Tweek?” His mother called in a questioning tone.

“Shit!” Tweek hissed, both shooting upright. He all but flied off the mattress in pursuit of his underwear and Craig gathered their clothes. While the other boy was tugging on his undergarments he pointed to his closet. “Get in there!”

Craig didn’t have time to disagree. Tweek shouted in return to his mother’s call. “Upstairs!” He rushed to the mirror that hung on his wall and was grateful for his general disability to tame his uncooperative waves of hair. He smoothed his hands over it anyways in attempts to make it less obvious that someone had just been pulling on it, and it only angered the beast. He sighed and lifted his sweater from the ground. His heart was pounding in his chest as he dashed to beat the footsteps that were coming from the hallway. He threw himself onto his bed and tugged the duvet over his body, swiping a book off his night-stand and flipping to a random page just in time for the women to push his door ajar.

“Hi, honey!” Mrs. Tweak greeted with a cheerful smile. Her light brown hair was pulled into a pony-tail and she was clad in a light blue dress with a white collar.

Tweek grinned, praying she didn’t notice the redness of his face. He twitched nervously as he replied. “Hey, mama. How was it?”

“It was lovely! Your grandparents say they miss you very much, but they understood you had a lot of school work. I take it you’re finished?”

“Uh, I— _Gah_! I’m still working on it!” Tweek cursed himself for shaking as he did, but it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Mrs. Tweak smiled. “Awe, you need some more coffee, don’t you?”

“Yes! That would—that would be killer!” Tweek jumped on the opportunity to get her out of his room.

“Alright, I’ll be right back with some coffee and a little snack.”

Tweek didn’t let himself breathe until the stairs creaked under her weight. He launched himself from the mattress and rushed to the closet pulling open the door and finding a still shirtless Craig. He cocked an eyebrow at the shorter boy. “Really? You had to keep me in the closet?”

Tweek would have giggled longer at the innuendo but he had little time. He pulled Craig from the small space and helped him put on his shirt, then rushed him towards the window, apologizing over and over again that they had to cut this night short. Craig really didn’t mind, but Tweek did immensely.

“I love you.” Tweek promised as Craig back out of the window.

“I know.” Craig winked as he lowered himself to the ground. Tweek rolled his eyes and watched his boyfriend sneak out of his backyard. Giving himself the opportunity to be giddy and smile at what he and Craig had discussed prior to the interruption, he slowly returned to his manufactured position and was far more prepared for his mother to return with a steaming mug of liquid. Instead of reading the words of a book he selected, his mind wandered to all things Craig—as it always seemed to do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: violence, gore, homophobic and racist slurs

Craig staggered down the street with shearing pain cascading throughout his ribs. He had just endured his second attack from Cartman’s brigade of homophobic assailants. He recruited two new members since the first incident—possibly the weakest and least threatening two people that he could have come up with—Scott Malkinson and Pip Pirrup. They cornered him in the same alley and took turns pushing and kicking him. The result was a terrible aching in his chest.

He was beyond relieved when he approached the desired destination, deciding that attempting to make it to his own home without resting would be too agonizing. He meagerly banged his fist against the green-painted wooden door. Above it was a cutesy decal that read _The Donavan’s_ , and to the side was a potted fern. He had never been quite so appreciative to be at Clyde’s.

“Hey, man! Long time no see,” Clyde joked after prying the door open in response to Craig’s knocking.

“Feel blessed.” Craig retorted, grunting in agony when he had to move again. He hugged himself as he crossed the threshold, feeling a palm against his spine after hearing the door shut.

“Whoa, what’s the deal? You get stabbed or somethin’?”

Craig lowered himself onto the grey, peg-leg sofa in the living room with a whimper, ignoring the presence of Kyle on the other end and Stan on the adjacent recliner. He hissed, assuming the pain would soothe if he could take the weight off his feet. Anguished moans fell from his lips without his consent as he stretched himself out and squeezed his eyes shut. “Or somethin’. What’s everyone doin’ here?”

“French study group,” Kyle answered, dumbfounded by the unexpected presence of the injured acquaintance. Craig’s stomach twisted, knowing that Tweek would most likely be soon to join as the fourth member of the foreign language study crew. Though it would be relieving to have his primary support system in a time of crisis, he was not looking forward to the inevitable panic attack his state of being would cause.

Stan winced, “Man, you look in a bad way,”

With a groan, Craig shifted, attempting to find a comfortable position, “I’m peachy.”

“Alright, cut to the chase—what’s wrong with you?” Clyde demanded, filling the space between the new presence and Kyle.

Speaking again was unattractive to Craig at the time. He replied instead by slowly unbuttoning his coat, then lifting his plain, black-shirt to reveal his abused torso. Clyde gasped at the excruciating contusions that littered Craig’s tan skin. “What the hell?!”

“A couple of guys decided to try and mug me. It hurts like a fucker, but I’ll be cool.” Craig decided, half trying to convince himself in the process.

Clyde shook his head from side to side. “Man, that’s bad lookin’! You need to go to the doctor. And whoever did that needs to see a _shrink_ , for cryin’ out loud.”

Craig huffed, opening his mouth to reply, but his words were stolen by a pounding on the front door. The sudden noise caused him to flinch, his enduring another attack causing him to lose trust in his environment, though he recalled it could only be Tweek.

After Clyde tugged the door ajar, Tweek stepped inside and graced Craig with a small smile when their eyes met. Before there was any greetings exchanged, Clyde spouted, “Tweek, check out Craig’s stomach! Some muggers used him as a punchin’ bag!”

“What?!” Tweek’s gaze immediately became laced with concern and confusion, landing on the boy that lay on the couch.

Craig rolled his eyes. “Goddamn it, Clyde.”

Tweek made it beside Craig and forced his shirt away. His heart sank to the base of his stomach as he scanned his eyes along the painful bruises. Fury washed over him, a debilitating wave. He traces his finger carefully over Craig’s bare skin. “This wasn’t a fuckin’ mugger. This was Cartman.”

“Cartman?!” Kyle and Stan asked in unison.

Clyde perked his head in bemusement. “Nah, Craig said some skuzzs got a hold of him.”

“Well, Craig fibbed.” Tweek shot back, ignoring Craig’s warning gaze. “Cartman’s been harassing him and I’m pretty sure he needs a fuckin’ hospital.”

“Whoa, whoa, back-track. Why’s Cartman got it out for you?” Clyde inquired.

“He didn’t—“

“Because he’s an ugly-hearted, dirty, manipulative, shitfaced, no-good son of a bitch!” Tweek ranted fiercely, cheeks flushed with indescribable irritation. “I swear I’m gonna deck him! I’m gonna gut him like the slimy goddamned fish he is!”

“The hell is that Fatass targeting Craig for? Is it 'cause you're Latino?” Kyle asked, eyebrows furrowed so low at the topic of his least favorite person, they were visible through the lens of his large glasses.

Tweek granted Craig a sharp stare, arching his eyebrow. “You wanna tell them? ‘Cause I’m goin’ to the cops anyhow.”

“Tweek, please. It’s okay.” Craig pleaded, eyeing the three spectators that he would rather not know the true motive behind the torture.

“Wait…” Stan muttered, blue eyes slowly widening with understanding.

Stan’s whisper of realization went unnoticed by the shaking Tweek, “It’s not okay, Craig! You could have broken a rib!”

“I actually think I might have.” Craig chuckled sardonically, even the smallest bought of laughter pinching at his damaged nerves.

Tweek glared fixedly at his boyfriend, hyperventilating, “That is not funny!”

“Should we tell them _what_?” Clyde forced himself into the conversation. Often he felt like the third wheel between the two, but he would not let that stop him this time. Although he played it off, he was truly concerned about his friend. He didn’t enjoy seeing him black and blue and with the inability to move comfortably.

Craig weakly shook his head. “Don’t worry, you know how Cartman is.”

“Is it because of what I think it is?” Stan spoke again, allowing his voice to be raised over the commotion. The couple snapped their necks in his direction, encouraging him to elaborate. “Cartman’s been braggin’ about beating up a, uh… Gay kid,”

Clyde and Kyle fell silent, wide, expectant stares on Tweek and Craig. The battered boy’s eyes were pleading, his exhaustion and anxiety preventing him from actively trying to conceal Tweek’s panicked confession, “Yeah, Stan. Cartman is doing this because Craig and I are together, and he thinks that since it’s _wrong_ and _illegal_ it gives him the right to attack him!”

Clyde’s eyes enlarged, taken aback by Tweek’s brashness. Though the forwardness was shocking, he couldn’t say he was completely shocked. Everyone heard the rumors and Tweek and Craig were constantly together since anyone could recall. “You mean, like… romantic like?”

Craig slapped himself in the face. That was exactly what he was trying to avoid, and he was frankly very displeased with the blond who allowed his anger to compromise their crucial discretion. “Tweek, for Christ sake.”

“Yes, romantically, Clyde! I don’t give a rat’s ass if that means we’re going to Hell, I’m not gonna sit back and let Cartman and his gang send you right there!”

Clyde scoffed. “Do you two really think _I_ give a rat’s ass?”

The couple were only momentarily able to acknowledge their friend’s reaction before Kyle’s constant rage was reignited. He clenched his jaw, “Are you guys fucking joking right now?! He’s been beating you up for being queer?!”

Craig huffed, equally nervous and humored, “I was wondering when ya’d stop being uncharacteristically quiet over there, Broflovski,”

The redhead stood to his feet, seething, “This is fucking unacceptable. When is he going to stop getting away with all of this?! He’s a tyrant! He needs to be stopped!”

Kyle had always been somewhat of kryptonite to Cartman. Himself, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman were a group of best friends in their youth, though it took only a few years for Kyle and Cartman to develop a deep hatred for one another. Cartman’s first onslaught of offensive bigotry as a mere elementary school aged child was primarily anti-Semitic, and his first target was Kyle, whose family was Jewish. For a long time, it was merely words and brief scuffles, until one day Cartman pushed too far, used too offensive a slur, and Kyle went berserk on him. It would be unfair to call it a fight as Kyle easily dominated, fueled by pure rage. It ended with Cartman nearly unconscious and Kyle threatened with expulsion; however, given the lingering sensitivity to anti-Semitism that the sting of World War II left behind, the administration let him off with a week’s suspension. He was the only person who had left Cartman in such a state, though this friendship-ending altercation arguably made the bully into a much worse version of himself. He forever remained afraid of pushing Kyle Broflovski too far.

This dynamic in mind, Tweek was comforted by Kyle’s immediate defense of them. The reality of him revealing their illicit relationship was beginning to catch up to him beneath the blind fury and anxiety that blinded his judgement and let the confession slip. He gasped a sigh of relief, “What can we do?!”

“I’ll talk to him,” Stan said.

The three gazed over at him in confusion. Clyde tossed his arms in the air, “The hell good is that gonna do?!”

Stan bit a lip, thinking of how to word his explanation without appearing arrogant, “Cartman thinks he and I are best friends, and he sorta… Looks for my approval a lot, y’know? I’ll try and talk him out of it. That way nobody goes to a teacher or a cop, and Tweek and Craig don’t get found out.”

The terror of further homophobic treatment that day subsided due to the three surprisingly, unquestioningly supportive reactions. Craig had previously been under the impression that Tweek was the only other person in the universe that was supportive of homosexuality, and fielding these responses from his friends made him feel tremendously less alone and horrified. Finally swallowing the lump in his throat, Craig flicked his eyes to Tweek, “Might be worth a shot, baby.”

Clyde cooed at the nickname, earning a fiery glare from Tweek, who remained uninterested in a civil solution. “You are not going to be able to reason with this psychotic son of a bitch! Not even you, Stan! We need to do something about it now, before Craig gets really hurt! We need to get him protection!”

“We need to get Cartman to finally take responsibility for his shit,” Kyle added pointedly, arms crossed over his chest. “I say we start with Principal Victoria.”

Clyde decided to chime in, “You guys, honest, much as I’d like to believe in a principal or a cop or even a parent that would side with Tweek and Craig on this… It’s just not realistic,”

The blond narrowed his eyes at Clyde once again, “What’re you saying?! That they’d just keep lettin’ Cartman beat Craig to a bloody pulp?!”

“Not necessarily,” Clyde paused, drawing from his own family’s opinion on same-sex relationships. He was not sure whether or not mentioning the possible consequences would be prudent, not wanting to send his anxiety-prone friend over the edge. He continued anyway, “They might just send him off to one of them camps, though. Or to one of those asylums, where they do that brain surgery,”

“Lobotomies,” Craig exhaled, shivering.

The room fell silent. So much had just been laid out on the table, all teenagers left in bemusement and fear of what would be to come. Shrouded in doom, Tweek could only think of one final phrase to utter, “Just… keep this between us, please… I know I shouldn’t have even said nothin’… I’m sorry,”

With that, the blond turned and stormed out of Clyde’s home. Kyle, Stan, and Clyde gaped at Craig expectantly. He remained silent, trying to decide if his feelings of irritation or sympathy for Tweek were stronger.

“So…” Clyde sputtered, far too uncomfortable with the long lull in conversation. “I guess we ain’t worryin’ about this speaking test tomorrow.”

With an amused scoff, Kyle shook his head, “We ought to be going. Craig, you want Stan and me to help you home?”

The thought of moving was unpleasant, but the notion of being tucked into the comfort of his own bed and drifting off into a much needed slumber made him drool. He nodded halfheartedly, accepting Clyde’s outstretched arm for support.

The three made their way to the door, Craig slowed by pain and exhaustion, but able to support himself. He was apprehensive to exit the comfort and protection of Clyde’s home into the battle ground that his hometown had become. Despite this dread, he felt empowered to be escorted by the most popular kid and the smartest kid in his class. Their status, compassion for his situation, and friendship gave him the strength he needed to face the world a battered person—and without Tweek.

“Hey,” Clyde told addressed him in a low voice as Stan and Kyle redressed themselves for the snowy climate. “I’m proud of ya.”

Though his heart throbbed at his friend’s affectionate utterance, Craig merely smirked, “Why’s that?”

“Dunno, just am.” Clyde shrugged, returning his expression with a lop-sided smile. “Be careful,”

With a nod and the acceptance of Stan’s strong, athletic arm hooked around his to steady his movements, he bid Clyde adieu and began the journey to his own home down the street. It was a short walk, but he was extremely grateful he was not forced to make it alone. The three traveled in a somewhat sullen silence that was only occasionally broken by Craig’s impromptu wincing.

“You go ahead and go home, Kyle, I’ll help Craig up to his room,” Stan announced on arriving before the Tucker’s property.

Kyle creased one of his dark eyebrows beneath his tweed cap, “Sure?”

The dark haired boy confirmed, “Yeah, you gotta go finish that essay or project or whatever.”

“Always somethin’,” Kyle sighed, but began to backpedal. He granted Craig a half-grin, “Take care of yourself, Tucker.”

Craig thanked him in the form of a nod, allowing Stan to link their arms. He braced himself for a potential interrogation from his folks on entering, but found only his younger sister in the common area of the home. She hardly looked up from her book to acknowledge her brother to his relief. The two made their way to Craig’s bedroom, where he instantly collapsed against his mattress.

Stan helped Craig remove his snow-sleeked boots, something that he was slightly embarrassed about, but given the circumstances overlooked. Craig cozied himself into a relaxed position, soreness instantly more tolerable with the flatness of his position. His gaze fell to Stan, who lingered at his bedside, worrying at his bottom-lip in a trance-like state. “What’s the deal?”

The teenager’s blue eyes widened as he gazed a Craig with an innocent gleam that looked out of place for coolest guy in school. Wetting his lips, Stan began, “Can I ask you something?”

Craig gave a short nod, “Shoot,”

A pause befell the two as Stan grasped to find the right words. He claimed a seat at the end of Craig’s bed, now avoiding contact as he began tactfully strewing together his inquiry, “How did you… I mean, when did you…” He peered up at Craig, who’s eyebrow was arched, urging him to spit it out, “How did you know you were queer?”

The question took Craig by surprise. Why Stan wanted to know this was beyond him until he considered Tweek’s theory of he and Kyle being secret lovers. Pushing those thoughts away for the sake of Stan’s vulnerability, he spoke slowly, “I don’t know… All I know is I just never started likin’ girls like everyone else did. But, I started liking Tweek even more.” Stan grinned at this—a winsome, far off grin. Craig could not resist letting the comment fall from his lips, “Why? You got a thing for Kyle or something?”

“No!” Stan’s immediate, knee-jerk reaction did a decent job of convincing Craig, but something in the way his features swiftly returned to the thoughtful state, he repeated, “No. Not Kyle,”

“Can I ask who?”

Stan considered finally relieving the burden from his chest. Clearly, he at the very least had leverage over Craig if he had confessed his feelings and his friend turned out to be untrustworthy. Somehow, however, it wasn’t about that at all. Stan realized he could not tell anyone unless it was the one first. He stood, resolved, and granted Craig a grin. “It’s no one. Need me to get you something cold for your belly?”

Craig shook his head, letting the prior topic die, “Nah, I’m just gonna go to sleep. Thanks, by the way.”

Stan nodded and wished him well before heading out, pulling Craig’s bedroom door shut on the way. Within minutes of fretting about whether or not he should pry himself from the mattress and wobble over to Tweek’s to mend things, he drifted into a deep slumber.

_

“Hey,” Craig greeted his boyfriend when he finally emerged from his home. He put out the cigarette he had been smoking while he waited on the Tweak's stoop and stood to his feet. The long rest he indulged himself in helped immensely to help his body heal from the trauma it endured the day before, but he was still in a great deal of agony. It wasn’t until the following morning before school he was able to visit Tweek to discuss the matter, ambushing him on his way to the bus stop.

“Hey,” Tweek sighed, stashing his hands into the pockets of his thick coat. “How’re you feeling?”

“Alright,” he replied. “And you?”

The blond scoffed, “I ain’t the one who just got beaten half to death.”

Craig kept a low voice and a soft tone, hoping there was no volcanically hot reaction to his following statement, but prepared nonetheless. “I’ll make it. But listen, baby, you can’t just go off tellin’ people about us, okay? I know we lucked out with Clyde and them, but he’s right. We could end up in deep water if the wrong person finds out.”

Tweek scoffed, “Yeah, I’ll keep my mouth shut as soon as Cartman leaves you alone.”

“You know he won’t. I just have to ride this out. It’s nothing.”

Tweek let out an exhale of exasperation. He knew he couldn’t raise his voice, and it took all his willpower not to. “Do you just not care? About anything?”

Craig narrowed his eyebrows. “What the hell? Yeah, I care.”

“You say that you care about me and yourself and this relationship, but just to keep it all under wraps and you keep letting Cartman and whoever the hell else do this to you!”

“I’m not _letting_ him do anything, Tweek! I fight back as hard as I can, but six to one ain’t good odds. I’m not telling anyone about it because then I’d have to tell them I’m in a homosexual relationship, which whether it’s right or wrong, could get us majorly in trouble. We’d get sent away to one of those camps.”

Tweek shakes his head from side to side. “You need to stand up for yourself! We can make up an excuse! This,”—he gestured to Craig’s stomach—“Is not okay! You can’t keep literally takin’ punches for us like this!”

“Well, it’s better me than you, and it’s better than Cartman goin’ straight to our folks or the authorities. They’re gonna support his crusade again queers. Nothing happened to him for beating the snot outta Butters when everyone though he was a gay.”

They paused a half a block before reaching the bus stop in order to maintain privacy. Remaining full of indignant energy, Tweek glared daggers at his boyfriend, the tension between them rising. “Don’t you think your well-being would matter a little more to people than your preferences?”

“I honestly don’t know, kid. People in this world got their priorities all screwed to hell.” Craig scoffed, rubbing his face. “I ain’t gonna do anything until I know for sure I can protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting!” Tweek shot back, creasing his eyebrows. He flicked his eyes between Craig’s, imagining this boy that he adored so deeply being beaten relentlessly. That image was more horrible than any pray-the-gay-away-camp could ever be. “I need you.”

With that, Tweek turned and trekked up to the bus stop, leaving Craig frozen in time. He sighed through his nose and buried his hands in his pockets as he ambled behind him. Trying to ignore his problems for the few moments he had to himself was impossible as he felt his chest tighten in agony with every movement of his hips. He knew that Tweek was right and something had to be done, but he was fearful for the fate of their relationship—and Tweek himself. It was obvious that Cartman was relentless in his campaign and Craig had no idea how to counter, other than driving everywhere around town, and ensuring he was never alone at school. Or getting a switchblade. Or all of the above.

Maybe he would just pack up his things and his boyfriend and move to San Francisco. He fantasized about the final option as he fell into line with his classmates to mount the school bus.

_

Through the course of the week, Tweek and Craig had made up and conducted a plan of action to protect Craig that required as little action as possible. From then on, Craig was not to be alone anywhere outside of his home. Every cigarette run would be preapproved and accompanied by at least Tweek, but preferably Clyde as well. Any time he felt the urge to use the restroom at school, he was advised to wait for the bell to chime between class periods and answer natures call with plenty of witnesses present. There was absolutely no physical acts of affection allowed outside of the confines of their bedrooms, and they decided to cutback public communications—not enough to rouse suspicion, but enough to give spectators less to dissect. So far, the tactics were working well, though Craig spent far much more time with Clyde, Jimmy, Stan, and Kyle than he had ever cared to.

The moments in which he were allowed to express his love of Tweek physically were even more sacred, and he wasted none of their time wrapped up in his bedsheets away from him. He laid beside him, resting his head on Tweek’s chest, the steady beat of his heart a metronome that nearly put him to sleep. His consciousness was upheld when Tweek’s voice sounded above his head.

“You stopped using that stuff in your hair?” He asked, tracing his fingers through Craig’s fluffy, black fringe.

Craig mumbled, preoccupied with breathing in the smell of Tweek’s coffee-scented long-sleeved shirt, “Guess so,”

“How come?”

“You like it better like this,” Craig told him somewhat truthfully, reluctant to reveal the actual reason he had stopped meticulously sculpting his hair every morning.

Tweek grinned to himself. The statement was true; he adored the way his boyfriend’s hair fell naturally, swooping down across his forehead, framing his beautiful, dark features. “How’s come you didn’t stop months ago, then?”

Craig paused, clutching at his injured stomach, which was taking its good time to heal. He wet his lips, peering up in hopes of losing himself in Tweek’s intent, breathtaking stare. He enjoyed a sweet peck on the mouth before he inadvertently muttered the reality of his situation, assuming his boyfriend’s saliva was a truth serum, “It hurts to lift my arms that high.”

The corners of Tweek’s lips turned downward, his chest fluttering unpleasantly at the thought. He clicked his tongue, “I’m sorry…”

“S’alright,” Craig assured him, nuzzling back against his chest. “You like it better anyhow.”

Falling back into comfortable silence momentarily, the situation was still eating at Tweek. He shifted carefully from Craig’s long arms, sliding off the mattress. He earned a raised eyebrow from Craig, which he ignored and wondered out of the room and down the hall. Entering the full bathroom he shared with his younger sister, Tweek opened the cabinet beneath the sink in search of Craig’s hair product. He removed the red and green can of petroleum pomade, swiped a wide tooth comb from the porcelain sink, and stalked back to the room.

“What’s the deal?” Craig asked, quirking his eyebrow.

Tweek dropped onto the mattress before his partner, granting him a sweet smile. “I wanna do your hair for ya, since you can’t.”

Craig allowed a simper to break out across his face. He reached out grasp Tweek’s boney, pale fingers. “Thank you, baby, but really, it’s fine. It saves me lots of time to let it fall like this, and I’m gettin’ real used to it.”

“It’s okay, honey, just let me! I know how, I watched you do it enough,” the blond argued, already twisting the lid off the can.

With a sigh, Craig accepted Tweek’s offer and scooted to the edge of the mattress. Tweek positioned himself behind his boyfriend, first combing his hair back. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the relaxing feeling of the other boy manipulating his hair, brushing his fingers and the comb against his scalp. A good ten minutes later, Tweek’s masterpiece was completed.

“Go look, see how I did!” he urged his boyfriend, smiling as he turned to face him. The Craig he had spent most of his time loving on and adoring had returned.

“Alright, cool your jets about it,” Craig retorted, tracing out of the bedroom. On returning, he granted Tweek two thumbs up, “Looks killer, babe.”

Tweek nodded in agreement, replacing the product and comb on Craig’s bedside table and making room of him to join on the furniture. As the couple locked gazes, Tweek raised a hand to cup Craig’s face. The bruising on his skin had almost entirely faded, leaving nothing but darkened ghosts of evidence that someone had pounded their fists against those perfect features. Heart heavy with these thoughts, he surged forward to counteract the violence Craig’s cheeks, nose, chin, eyes, and lips hand known with loving kisses pressed against each one. When they opened their eyes to find green and hazel yet again, Tweek whispered, “I love you, Craig Tucker. Just the way you are,”

“I love you,” Craig hummed, stealing a lingering kiss from Tweek’s soft mouth. “’til the day I die.”

The two became consumed in the deep bond they shared, displayed by holding one another closely, peppering kisses against one another and bumping noses. Draped in the comfort of Craig’s unwavering love, Tweek let himself feel free despite everything that rendered him completely trapped.

_

“Tucker!” The formidable voice called out to Craig, making his blood go cold. He had eluded any incident involving his fat accoster for multiple months then, Tweek’s protection plan proving extremely effective. But, in his one moment of weakness, Cartman approached him on his way home from the grocery store, accompanied by a tall, unpleasant looking man that appeared to be both in his late twenties and an alcoholic. His features seemed to be stuck in an expression of perpetual unhappiness, and he had a dirty head full of ginger hair.

Craig held his breath, growled, “What do you want?”

“I want you to meet my half-brother, Scott.” He gestured to his companion. Scott popped seemingly every bone in his neck with one swift move. “You wanna know what we got in common other than the same old man?”

Craig mumbled, “Love to,”

Cartman stepped forward, smile traced with malevolence. “We’re both gonna pound you good.”

“That sounds pretty queer, Cartman,” Craig quipped, then tried to shout when they surged forward and grabbed him by the arms. Given his experience, he was sure not a soul would hear him, even if Scott had not cupped his hand over his mouth. Waiting in the alley was only Kevin, and he was relieved that he did not have to spend energy fighting off an addition to the three. His heart raced rapidly with distress and anticipation of the pain that would ensue. His breath was stolen from him when he was slammed against a brick wall. Cartman kept his hands cupped on his shoulders and glared at him. 

“Y’know, Craig, I missed these little rendezvous of ours. But, I’m just gonna be frank with you here—things are sorta... Boring. Overdone,” Cartman began, rendering Craig utterly confused. He narrowed his eyes at the main antagonist as he extrapolated, “I’m thinkin’ of getting Tweek in on this. I honestly dunno why I haven’t thought of this before, but I think killin’ two queers with six fists would be a lot more efficient.”

Craig’s jaw clenched, pure rage hitting him harder than the brick wall just had. His voice was steady as a rock, inadvertently an octave lower than his natural tone, “You touch Tweek and I will fucking murder you.”

Cartman’s eyebrows rose and his lips curled into a smirk. “Spoken like a true lover.”

A fire burned hot inside of Craig like never before. He struggled to free himself from Cartman’s grasp until his half-brother drew a switchblade from his pocket and pressed it to his neck. “Quit squirmin’, you monkey!” The ginger spoke up in a gruff voice. This intimidation tactic failed to douse the flames.

“Fuck you! Don’t you dare lay a fucking finger on him!” Craig spat venomously. His struggling caused Scott’s sharp blade to nick his flesh, blood emitting from the trivial wound instantly.

A puff of air jumped from Craig’s lips when Cartman slammed his fist into his gut. “I’m just tryna get you to confess your blasphemous ways, here! I’m really doin’ you a favor.” 

The irritating voice alone set his teeth on edge. He could strangle the boy if he were not in a compromising position. “The only thing you’re doing is torturing me, you fat piece of shit! If there was a fuckin’ God he sure as shit wouldn’t be okay with you slowly killin’ me just for loving Tweek!”

Cartman narrowed his eyes, “So you finally admit you’re a fifthly cocksucker.”

“Yeah, I’m a fifthly cocksucker. But y’know what I think, Cartman? I think you are too. I think you’re all mixed up about being into guys and you’re takin’ it out on me because I actually got one to love me!” Craig spat, half believing what he said and half wanting to make Cartman as livid and uncomfortable as possible. “And nobody, especially not any guy worth a nickel, would ever want to touch you the way Tweek touches me.”

“Why don’t you shut your goddammed, hell-bound mouth before I break your fuckin’ legs?!” Cartman seethed, nostrils flaring and eyes widened as he reached into the pocket of his jeans and procured his weapon. Slipping brass knuckles onto his hand, he continued, “You don’t know shit about me, and I ain’t a disgusting,”—a list of descriptions was spewed off, each word with a harsh punch connecting with Craig’s stomach—“sinful, filthy, sickening, shit-eating, queer son of a whore!”

Craig laughed hysterically, sure he had nothing to lose now that he already felt himself slipping out of consciousness. Glazed hazel eyes landed on the timid Kevin who watched in terror as Cartman did so. “We were friends, Stoley.” He managed to sputter before Scott took a shot in a similar area to were his younger brother focused his energy.

Kevin scrunched his nose and stared down at the asphalt of the alley. “I-I ain’t friends with homosexuals, Craig.”

Another bark of laughter, and Craig’s head was reeling. “Fuck you.” He cried between hits. “Fuck you all, you fuckin’ Nazis.”

Cartman growled, grabbing Craig by the collar and jerking him forward like a rag doll. Craig could do little to defend himself, but he raised his arms and squeezed Cartman’s thick wrists with whatever little strength he could muster. He sputtered on his own blood that oozed from within him, “Fuck you,”

“Fuck you,” Cartman spat back unoriginally, “you’re vile.”

Craig stared into his face through half hooded eyes. He felt as if he were viewing the world through a sheet of glass, vision distorted by his weariness. A steady tremor settled over his body and his brain felt numb. But he was coherent enough to fight for his love for one last time. He smiled, remembering Tweek’s beautiful face and how much he loved every detail. As simply breathing became a chore after being punished for his crimes against society he still believed deep in his heart that he wasn’t wrong and that he didn’t deserve this. All he ever did was adore Tweek with every fiber of his being.

Craig forced his face closer to Cartman, nose to nose with his terrorizer. He refused to back down even on his death bed. His conviction amended for his weak tone. “No. I’m in love.”

Cartman couldn’t comprehend the half-dead protagonist’s actions. He was deeply embedded with fear himself, and he was the one who had complete and utter control over nearly anyone who crossed his path. He was aware of his manipulative power and the fact that he had already beaten Craig senseless. Why wasn’t he giving in? How could he get him to give in?

The fat brunette let out an utterly frustrated cry before slamming Craig against the cold and dirty ground. Kevin and Scott exchanged shocked expressions before returning their attention to Cartman raising and lowering his fits relentlessly against Craig’s body, the brass knuckles creating deep gashes with each punch.

“Uh—Eric, I thought we were just gonna rough him up… This ain’t tuff, man, you’re gonna kill ‘em!” Scott tried to reason with his little brother in a worried tone. Remorse or morality was not the cause of this objection, but the twenty-two year old had already spent a year of his life in a correctional facility and did not particularly like the idea of being locked up against for accessory to murder.

“He’s a disgusting pig! A fifthly goddamned hippie homosexual!” Cartman screamed, senselessly hitting Craig over and over, well after the boy had slipped out of consciousness. The attacker did not even notice the dangerously slow breathing and punctured internal organs. How could he have the time to care about Craig’s well-being when he was too busy taking out his confusion and self-loathing out on the defenseless victim?

“Cartman! That’s enough!” Kevin finally asserted his concerns. Guilt ate at him as he watched his once friend’s face became unrecognizable. Blood oozed from severed cuts, and his lip was completely busted. “You’re killin’ him!”

“I don’t care!” Cartman yelled, voice cracking.

Deciding he had officially gone insane, Scott and Kevin rushed to drag him away from Craig’s motionless, horribly beaten body. Cartman kicked and screamed in protest until he was finally subdued, then broke down in tears. Every feeling of envy and hatred he felt towards Craig and his bravery to stand up for himself even in the most daunting of fights billowed within him and made the blood pound in his skull. He sobbed, unbelieving of what he had just done, and all because he wanted nothing more than to be Craig. None of this he said aloud—he just cried.

“We gotta book it, man, I-I can’t have this blood on my hands.” Scott told Kevin as he held the crying boy in his arms.

“What’s _that_ mean?” Kevin asked, horrified.

Scott shook his head slowly, staring slack-jawed at Craig’s lifeless body. “There ain’t no way that kid’s alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry ): pls don't hate me. thank you so much for reading, a conclusion is on its way tomorrow ;-;


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello ladies and gays, thank u so much for reading this story! I know i really did it to ya but it means a lot to me, this is probably my favorite thing ive ever written  
> thank u for the kind comments and kudos as well I appreciate all of it (:  
> Tw: panic attack, mention of violence

On stepping outside, Tweek was surprised to not be met with an immediate gust of freezing air. Although sheets of snow persisted against the outdoor features of the mountain town, the temperature was a pleasantly warm contrast. Though it was only midway through April, his heart swelled at the sign of a potential early spring. With a grin, Tweek considered ducking inside to remove a layer of clothing, but decided against it given the time constraints. He wondered if Craig was aware of the beautiful weather, hoping he would get to see his boyfriend in the leather jacket that he loved instead of wrapped up in a hefty coat.

The blond became troubled when Craig did not appear at his house to walk him to the bus stop that day. He did so himself and was nervous of his whereabouts. Assuming he must have fallen ill, he briefly considered tracing back to the Tucker residence to examine his state. The thought of punishment for cutting class put the idea out of his head, urging him to mount the school bus instead. The anxiety deescalated further when there were no sightings of Craig from Clyde, either, and no appearance at the other boy’s locker, thus proving he was home sick.

The morning continued trekked on routinely for Tweek. Even his fretting about Craig was a normality. He was constantly making himself sick with anxiety with every version of any awful thing that could possibly happen to the boy he loved, and for anyone else he loved. At times he felt as if there was something mentally not sound with him; something that prevented him from being able to stop sickening himself over every microscopic detail of his world, but their school’s counselors assured him he would be okay as long as he stayed away from drugs.

An half-hour into learning a watered-down version of a Civil War battle that Tweek had little care for, their lecturing teacher was interrupted by a tapping on the door. Slightly annoyed, Mr. Smith called, “Come in!”

The door opened, revealing a crestfallen Principal Victoria. Her eyes were pricked with tears and a tissue was crumpled in her hand. The students immediately began whispering to one another, desperate to know what had brought the woman to tears. Her voice was frail when she spoke, “May I borrow Tweek Tweak, Mr. Smith?”

“Of course.” He answered, befuddled by her compromised composure.

Tweek was immediately hit with a whole new shockwave of dread. His legs were jelly as he gradually separated himself from the desk and took steps towards the blonde women. The stares from his classmates made him feel as though he had been given a death sentence—perhaps he had. Frightful green eyes followed every movement Principal Victoria made on the way to her office. He would have made inquiries about his purpose there if his lips had not become too dry to separate.

Principal Victoria turned the silver knob to her office and held it open for Tweek. He cocked an eyebrow at this unusual gesture as he entered. His spirits soured even further when he found his mother and father occupying the two chairs in front of the Principal’s haphazardly decorated desk, and a member of the South Park Police Department standing in the corner, scribbling something onto a notepad. He remained speechless when his gaze connected with his parents. They shared horrified expressions and glossy eyes.

“Tweek, why don’t you take a seat, honey,” Principal Victoria suggested after clearing her throat. The boy warily obliged, seating himself on the third and least comfortable piece of furniture on the side of the desk opposite to the women in charge.

His mother reached toward him and clasped his hand in her boney, cold one. The faculty member gathered her thoughts before beginning, letting the fear and uncertainty fester agonizingly within Tweek until he felt as if he could burst. “We have some very difficult news for you. I know you may want to… lash out when you hear it, but we implore you, stay calm.”

Tweek was already visibly trembling and sure that the term _calm_ was not a part of his vocabulary. Principal Victoria stared at her desk and gave a long sigh, only looking up to grant Mrs. Tweek a sympathetic frown when she broke down crying again. Tweek’s impatience and nerves spoke for him, “What the hell is going on?”

“Son,” The officer began, removing the responsibility from the blonde women that had fallen victim to another bout of tears. “Last night your friend, Craig, was found in an alley. He was beaten very badly… Most of his organs had been ruptured, and his internal bleeding was severe… They tried everything they could—“

“Don’t.” Tweek interrupted in a shockingly sturdy tone. His finger was covering his mouth, eyes unblinking. They were not clouded by confusion anymore, but void. It was as if the light had gone out in his soul. “Don’t you tell me he’s gone.”

“We’re—We’re so sorry, Tweek.” Mrs. Tweek managed to choke out. The tragedy made her heart clench, feeling as though she had lost a son. Both the Tweaks and the principal had watched the Tucker boy grow up and blossom into the handsome teenage boy he died as. He had spent more time in the principal’s office than any other student for various reasons (namely flicking off his teachers), and nearly just as much time at the Tweak’s household than his own. The entire town of South Park would soon mourn the loss of the beloved boy who passed far too soon.

Tweek’s brain shut down. For the first time when someone had gone wrong, he felt virtually no anxiety or pressure—nothing at all. His senses were numb as his mind tried to process a world without Craig Tucker. It was pointless. There was so sunlight, clouds, or birds carrying out their high-pitched tunes. There was no laughter or smiles or mugs full of sweet, hot coffee. Everything was wrong and bland; the idea left a disgusting taste in his mouth that made him want to vomit. He felt as if there was no point even for his own heart to beat anymore.

“Tweek?” The officer addressed him gingerly. They had let the blond boy find a spot on the ground to gaze at fixedly through wide, glazed green eyes for a full two minutes with no words. His parents had expected a much different reaction, and were frankly far more disturbed by the one they received. “Do you have any idea who might have done this to your friend? Did Craig have any enemies?”

_Who might have done this to your friend?_

His very blood boiled beneath his skin. The desire to throw up returned tenfold, and if the anger rising within him had not overpowered it, he would have been perfectly capable of emptying his stomach’s contents where he sat. His empty eyes rose from their position on the floor to meet the officer’s gaze. Tweek’s words were void of any emotion that was not a synonym to pure, irrevocable wrath. “Yes.”

Tweek propelled himself from his sitting position, not allowing his parent’s worried beckoning draw him back. He stormed right out of the office and headed down the corridor towards his classroom. Somewhere along the way his vision was blurred by tears, but he did not even notice. All that mattered was finding the bastard that he knew was in charge of the gaping hole in his heart.

Tweek barged into their classroom, ignoring Mr. Smith’s baffled protests. When enraged green eyes landed on the person whom he loathed with ever millimeter of his being that sat in the second row as if he had never committed a sin he was sent into a near psychotic state of fury. A scream erupted from his lips, making his peers jump and Cartman dart his eyes up to teenager that was charging at him. The fat boy’s instincts did not tell him to move even when Tweek approached him, hands reaching straight for his neck.

“He’s dead!” Tweek shouted so loud he was already beginning to make his throat raw, tightening his finger’s around Cartman’s thick neck. “He’s fucking dead you fucking you piece of shit! You’re a fucking murderer! Are you happy now?! You fucking killed him!”

“What the hell is going on?!” Stan demanded pointlessly in utter shock as he watched Tweek become completely unhinged. After attempting to choke Cartman, the officer and Victoria had finally caught up with him and worked in unison to pry Tweek off of the startled brunette, both of their expressions holding astonishment and sadness. The quarterback noticed the Tweaks enter the classroom shortly behind the principal, equally shook up and in pursuit of their son who was in the process of accosting someone who undoubtedly deserved it. Stan’s brain was having trouble processing the obvious causation for Tweek’s state.

“Y-You don’t think…” Kyle whispered unevenly.

They watched with slacked jaws as it took four well-bodied adults to subdue the screaming, gross sobbing, and kicking Tweek, who was in uncontrollable hysterics. His mind landed on Cartman’s latest campaign, how intent he was to expose Craig and Tweek’s relationship, considering it his divine right to exterminate the threat to Christianity. His chest tightened. The plan didn’t work. Somewhere along the way, they had slipped up, left Craig vulnerable. Was it his fault?

Wide blue eyes turned to Kyle, who shared his disturbed appearance. “Oh, my god,” Stan exclaimed in realization. “They killed Craig.”

“You bastards!” Kyle screamed at Cartman, who was still petrified in his assigned seat, grasping desperately for a fitting justification for the hate-crime he had committed the day prior. When he had woken up that morning and realized it was no dream, he considered skipping town for a few days to dodge potential blame, but he comforted himself in the knowledge that his privilege would ultimately protect him if he concocted the right kind of speech or phrase to sway the public.

“What the hell do you mean?” Kenny demanded, shocked brown eyes dancing between his two friends as they stood and stepped in front of Cartman’s desk.

Kyle’s hatred for the murderer had reached its peak, a new height he had never known. To think that a person could be so _heartless_ as to beat a person to death simply for loving someone of the same gender beyond disturbed him. It provided his insides with a combination of horror, anguish, and rage. He slammed his fists on the table and entered his personal space. “You’re gonna rot, you pig! You’re gonna rot in hell, you know that!?” 

Cartman’s heart pumped with adrenaline and fear of his fate. He didn’t have time to humor Kyle’s bitchy scolding. He puffed out a sigh, causally standing up from his desk and tracing out of the classroom. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but I ain’t gonna be a part of it,” with that, he darted out of the building in search of fresh air and a place to think.

“Would someone mind telling us what the hell happened?!” Wendy Testaburger’s voice spewed, concerned expression boring into her boyfriend’s face.

Stan was dumbfounded, ignoring Kyle’s ranting about how Cartman had gone unbelievably too far and they needed to go find him, all the chirping requests from his peers to feed them information as to what the hell was going on, and Kenny shushing the crying Jimmy who was hell-bent on finding Tweek. “I…I think I’m gonna be sick,” the quarterback announced, signified by the twisted feeling in the base of his stomach.

“Students! Take your seats!” Mr. Smith announced on reentering the classroom, arms raised. A troubled glare shot out from behind his thick-framed glasses. “Where is Eric Cartman?”

Apparently that inquiry broke the dam within Stan that kept his bile inside of him. His head dropped forward and inadvertently coated the linoleum floor with his upchucked breakfast. Chaos continued to ensue within the classroom, dozens of questions being shouted out to the teacher all at once before the poor, greying man even have a chance to field a single one while simultaneously enduring the Broflovski boy’s full testimony to Cartman’s bullying gone horribly awry. The teacher’s emotional stability was already pushed to new limit by Tweek’s full psychotic episode that he tried to help soothe in the adjacent room, which ended in the boy curling up against his mother and passing out cold. He sighed to himself, rubbing his partially bald head. “They did not prepare me for this in college.”

_

It had been the fourth day that Tweek had not heard from Craig. Eric Cartman was apprehended and incarcerated the night after Craig was pronounced dead. The following day, the incompetent police department sent Officer Barbrady to ask Tweek a few questions about the attack, and Craig himself. There was to be a trial held deciding the Cartman boy’s fate and Tweek was to attend as a character witness. He was too exhausted to object or assure that they didn’t even need him—that Cartman was a murderer and that alone should be enough to put him behind bars for the rest of his life without a snowball’s chance of parole. Those days, that was the only hope that Tweek could barely hold on to. His entire world was numb.

Tweek refused to move, and for the most part, to speak. He lay on his bed, staring into space with a blank mind and closed lips. The only form of communication he offered was a shake of the head when his parents or Clyde attempted to feed him. His good friend took off of school as well to help his parents keep an eye on their depressed child. While they were suspicious as to _why_ Tweek was so broken by this situation (even parents hear rumors) and what drove someone to beating Craig to death, Tweek was their only child and he was grieving; _why_ he truly was did not matter to them as much.

Late in the afternoon, Clyde had begun to drift off as he sat at Tweek’s. The blond was slightly offended that he was on unofficial suicide watch, but spoke nothing against it. He would not deny that it crossed his mind a few times, but he knew that’s the last thing Craig could have wanted. Both boys had not been able to catch more than an hour or two of sleep at a time since the tragedy occurred. Although Clyde was not Craig’s lover, they thought of one another as the brothers they never had and he was deeply devastated by the loss of a family member. The most important thing for him at the time was to be there for Tweek as much as possibly, simultaneously distracting himself from his own pain and carrying out Craig’s spirit’s unspoken wishes.

The brunette shook back to life abruptly when there was a loud knocking on the door. Blood-shot brown eyes met equally red green ones, both wordlessly deciding that Clyde would answer the door as Tweek’s parents were not available to do so. Letting out a long exhale and pushing himself off of the chair, Clyde trudged down to the opening of the house and yanked the door ajar to reveal three concerned friends. Stan, Kenny, and Kyle stood with sympathetically sad smiles. Kyle spoke carefully, “Hey, Clyde. Tweek home?”

“Yeah. He ain’t lookin’ too good.” Clyde answered glumly, stepping aside and allowing them to enter the household whose very ambiance was gloomier than anything they had ever felt. Clyde planted his hands in the back pockets of his blue jeans and gazed at the three friends.

“Neither are you, kid. When’s the last time you caught any z’s?” Kenny questioned with a quirked eyebrow.

Clyde shrugged. “Sleeping isn’t my main concern at the moment. What’d you need to see Tweek for?”

“We just wanna give him or best. The police came and talked to us ain’t but ten minutes ago. Is he not keen on company yet?” Stan replied, a bit embarrassed when he realized Tweek may _never_ be keen on company.

“Think he’ll be cool. C’mon up.” Clyde said, flicking his head towards the stairs.

The three boys followed, exchanging looks with one another. They came to a silent agreement that seeing Clyde—usually laughing, screaming, or talking about how much he admired breasts—so melancholy was not only bizarre, but incredibly saddening. Craig’s death certainly took a toll on everyone in his vicinity, making his loved ones wonder if there was something they could have done to prevent this. They traced his steps up the staircase, than down the short hallway to a bedroom where Tweek was laying motionlessly in a twin bed. He was clad in the same navy blue fishermen’s sweater they had seen him in the day everything happened, and his hair was an even worse disaster than what was accustom.

“Tweekers, it’s Stan, Kyle, and Ken. They just talked to the fuzz.” Clyde announced, gesturing to their friends.

Tweek gazed at them listlessly, wordlessly. The bespectacled boy glanced at the others before letting out a sigh and facing the sickly Tweek in bed. “Hey, man. I know nothing that anyone could possibly say will make this situation any better, but we told the coppers every speckle of dirt we got on Cartman. That criminal isn’t going to get away with this if I had to join the force and convict him myself. I promise you, Tweek. And I am so sorry from the bottom of my head that you have to go through this. I can’t imagine.”

Kyle felt as if he could hear crickets in the background of the silence made by Tweek. The boy just stared blankly at them, unreactive to his heart-felt mini-speech. He nudged Stan with his elbow, and the other boy cleared his throat, piggy-backing off of what the redhead started with, “I’m so sorry we didn’t do more to help him, Tweek. I ain’t never felt worse. Everyone at school feels so horrible… We miss both of you cats. I wish we could just turn back time and fix everythin’. We all love you, Tweek, and we’re so, so sorry this happened. Just know it’s a safe place for you there.”

This finally provoked a response from Tweek—he scoffed, and then turned his head away from the visitors. Stan and Kyle looked at one another with mutual feelings of defeat. Stan was particularly plagued with agonizing guilt, feeling very responsible for bringing Tweek and Craig’s relationship to Cartman’s attention in the first place. When he had heard that the boys were thought to be together, his true feelings were warm and admiring. It seemed so perfect, the two of them; Craig was the monotone, stoic string to Tweek’s high-flying, jittery kite. Stan felt happy for them, excited to share the notion of the two being in love. He was an idiot, he’d thought. More than anything he wished he had kept his mouth shut, and four days ago, asked Craig to join them for a game of yard football instead of letting him pick up groceries by himself. Biting back the urge to release more nervous vomit, he turned away from the blond. Sensing Stan’s readiness to escape the emotionally uncomfortable environment, he cast his gaze to Tweek for the last time as they turned to leave. “We’re here for you, man. Anything you need.”

“Meet you guys later.” Kenny announced. Kyle was wary but didn’t fight him on it. Stan and Kyle simply exited the same way they came as the blond turned to Clyde. “Could I get a minute with Tweek?”

Clyde pushed a sigh between his lips, making a motor-boat noise. “Be my guest.”

Kenny granted him a charming smile as he pulled the door shut with him on the way out. Tweek’s uncaring gaze followed his path to his bedside, where he took the weight off his feet on the mattress beside him. Kenny’s handsome face was a lot less grief-stricken than Tweek was used to, which both offended and intrigued him. The freckled heart-throb spoke softly after a few moments of gazing emphatically at the emotionally crimpled boy. “Y’know, when they have a trial, one of the things the jury’s gonna ask is if ya and Craig were a couple. And, if it’s a yes, then Fatass is liable to get a lower sentence. Or no charge,”

Tweek knit his eyebrows together. He was unpleasantly stunned by Kenny’s unusual words. He was so used to condolences that he had forgotten what reality sounded like coming out of someone’s mouth. He forced his voice to work again. “Thanks for remindin’ me.”

Kenny grinned wistfully at Tweek, pausing before he punctuated his actual point by saying, “You need to say yes.”

Tweek was taken aback yet again. McCormick was just full of surprises. “What?”

Kenny shifted to better see the other boy, crossing his legs. “I talked to Stoley. I had a feelin’ he knew more than he was sayin’, ‘cause he wasn’t sayin’ nothing and I thought he and Craig were tight. Eventually he tells me he were there and he saw the whole thing. Much cryin’ ‘bout how he’s gonna go to Hell later, and he tells me that Craig fought for you till the very end… Says, Cartman threatened to go after you next, and Craig says he’d kill ‘em if he laid a finger on you.”

These words made Tweek’s emotions stir—something that had not happened over seventy-two hours. Green irises lightened ever so slightly, and Kenny caught the shift in feelings. He grinned to himself, taking that as his cue to continue his testimony. “Cartman called him vile, and every name in the book. He knew he had no chance in comin’ out of that fight the winner. But y’know what he said to bein’ called ‘vile’ anyhow? His last words?”

Kenny wouldn’t go on until Tweek nodded. When the smaller boy did so, he rehearsed, “’No. I’m in love’.”

Tweek’s stomach tied in knots. The words repeated over and over again in his mind like a record on repeat. He shut his eyes and strained to imagine Craig’s voice reciting those lovely words. He wished more than anything he could hear it himself. Every inch of him begged the universe and whatever deity invented it to give him back his beautiful boyfriend. His very soul cried out for Craig’s presence.

“I miss him so much.” Tweek chocked before giving into the tears that had been long repressed.

“Oh, hon, c’mere.” Kenny frowned, scooting forward and offering his embrace to his sobbing friend. Tweek collapsed against his chest and let himself be held for the first time. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not! I miss him so much and I didn’t even get to say good-bye! They just took him away from me without any warning! It ain’t fuckin’ fair!” Tweek cried out. Tears already started to soak Kenny’s flannel, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just rubbed Tweek’s elbow tentatively and let him spill these raw emotions, holding his steady as vibrated. “The-The last time I ever talked to him, I told him he was stupid! He t-told me I looked amazing, and I told him stop bein’ stupid! How could that be the very last thing I say to my baby!?”

“Well, that ain’t bad, Tweek, he knew you was jokin’. Don’t think he didn’t know how much love you had for ‘em. Hell, I could _feel_ it from you two crazy kids.” Kenny told him gently, with a small chuckle. Tweek couldn’t help but blush.

“Were we all that obvious?”

Kenny hummed. “Not to most, I’d say, but it takes one to know one, don’t it?”

Interest piqued astronomically, Tweek shot his gaze up to Kenny and granted him an extremely confused expression. “What?”

The charming blond smirked as he pressed his thumb against a tear that cascaded down Tweek’s cheek and smeared it into nonexistence. “Mr. Stan Marsh has my heart, much to the chagrin of all the ladies in this town, I know. I’m just so irresistible.”

Tweek narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t yakin’ my chain?”

Kenny shook his head from side to side. “No… and I just want you to know, I got what I have because of Craig.”

“What’d Craig do?” His broken voice questioned, hungry for more details of Craig, clinging to everything he knew about the boy, terrified any memories would slip away.

“Well, a lil’ ways back, Stan said Craig talked to him about bein’ gay and how he knew, and it just meant a lot to him. He said it gave him the boost he needed to finally tell my poor, pinin’ heart he liked me back,” Tweek’s mouth quirked into the smallest semblance of a smile Kenny had ever seen. He contined, “I came ‘cause I’m the only one who understands what it’s like to be a boy that loves a boy, Tweek. Now, I know I ain’t totally in those shoes of your’s, ‘cause I can’t imagine how god-awful you must feel. But, I try to, and it ain’t a good feeling. But, I’m tired of hidin’. It ain’t fair. You, Craig, me and Stan, we ain’t done nothin’ wrong. And now one of us ain’t with us anymore… It’s time we take a stand. Just like Craig did.”

It was difficult for Tweek to process this, but the fact that his crying had begun to subside again helped. He nodded his head and let the empowerment Kenny provided him with bring back a sliver of that hope he had before the incident. Kenny smiled and pushed the matted bangs from Tweek’s forehead. “Now, that don’t mean hop out of bed and join the flower-children. You take as much time as you need to mourn, okay?”

Tweek nodded his head in understanding. He shut his head and lay back in the position Kenny found him in. He felt a bit childish for letting the McCormick boy tuck him in, but he didn’t mind. This was the first source of effective comfort he had received and it was so freeing that someone could share his heartache to an extent. He took Kenny’s hand in his as the other boy stood to his feet and granted him a genuinely grateful expression. “Are you comin’ to the funeral tomorrow?”

“Of course. Craig was a killer guy. Maybe you can tell me all about him one day.”

Tweek nodded in agreement, but knew that if he tried to do so right then he wouldn’t make it passed the first memory of Craig Tucker without collapsing into despair. Kenny knew this too, and instead squeezed Tweek’s palm, then let it go. He promised again that he, Kyle, and Stan truly were there for him, and that Clyde would probably chop off a testicle for him.

“Kenny,” Tweek spoke the teenager’s name to beckon him as he began to round the corner. When his fellow blond stopped, he continued, “I always thought Stan liked Kyle.”

With a genuinely amused chuckle, he shrugged, “Me too. What can I say—he’s soft for blonds.”

“Craig was, too…” Tweek trailed off. “We’re pretty lucky, huh?”

The final phrase nearly broke Kenny down. He bit a lip to stop its quivering and granted him a nod before ducking out of the bedroom. After Kenny left and Clyde replaced him, Tweek beckoned his friend to his bedside. Clyde obliged in confusion. “You okay?”

“No,” Tweek croaked, pulling Clyde into a long, passionate hug. “I’m not okay at all. But I know you aren’t either.”

Caught off guard, but relieved by someone speaking his love language, Clyde shut his eyes and squeezed his friend back. Tears swelled in his eyes with the physical contact and remembrance of his best friends passing. The two people who loved Craig most in the world hugged for a ridiculous amount of time, wordless and generally soundless aside from a sniffle here and there. Both boys still felt empty and nowhere near ready to try and move on from the devastation, but they also both felt a little less alone in the catastrophe.

_

On a particularly luminous day in South Park a group of solemn mourners gathered around a grand, wooden casket. Atop the long box was an array of elegant flowers arranged meticulously by a professional florist for this specific dismal event. At the edge of the structure sat a framed photograph of the deceased in black-and-white. As the Catholic priest delivered the pre-rehearsed sermon on the delicacy of their mortality and that despite this seemingly merciless tragedy they all should continue to give thanks to God, Tweek’s tunnel vision and surprising composure caused him to stare directly at one of the only pictures of his love in existence. The emerald gaze squinted to scrutinize every detail of Craig’s facial features down to the shape of his eyebrows and his crooked bottom teeth. Words wouldn’t begin to express the extent to which he had missed those eyebrows curved at him with Craig’s worried expression, his rare, toothy grins that only Tweek had ever earned.

When the blond considered the rarity of the weather, he supposed today was as good of a day as any for the sun to be shining brilliantly through a clear blue sky. Any time prior to the actual event he had pictured daunting black clouds blanketing the atmosphere in a dark and unforgiving demeanor, perhaps even a steady rain beating down on them. Instead it was Craig’s favorite kind of weather—despite his generally predictable and monotone personality, the boy would relish in the warm days in their snowy mountain town, although they were scarce. Tweek smiled fondly at his knowledge of this idiosyncrasy.

Thankfully, Tweek was not asked to give a eulogy. Of course, he would have been honored to be the one to speak for his late boyfriend, he was relieved he didn’t have to carefully dance around his true thoughts and opinions of the boy. It was much better to not say anything at all then leave so many things unsaid. Craig’s little sister, Ruby, and his father would be the ones speaking.

Mrs. Tweak sat beside her best friend, whom was shaking with horrified tears at the fact that she was attending her own son’s funeral, and held her hand delicately. Mr. Tucker was a man of genuine love and respect for his family, but his comforting skills were subpar, and instead of aiding Tweek’s mother in soothing his wife, he simply sat and gazed earnestly at Craig’s tomb. His sister maintained a stoicism that fiercely reflected her deceased brother, though a closer look revealed a relentlessly quivering bottom lip. A majority of the seats were taken by Craig’s extended relatives whom didn’t really know him but attended the funeral out of respect for the family. The one’s whose emotional reactions were most severely depressing were that of his classmates. All rivalries were set aside; honoring the memory of Craig was more pertinent than who was sleeping with whose girlfriend.

Regrettably, Tweek was unable to even pay a cent of attention when Craig’s immediate family gave their time-sensitive speeches. He heard key words from Thomas such as _hard-working_ and _compassionate_ and all he could think of is how neither of those phrases even began to describe the way that this incredible boy was. He inadvertently imagined himself standing before the small congregation and confessing everything: that he and Craig were lovers, how beautifully he was treated, and how much love they possessed for one another. It would have been a grand speech, but again, some things are better left unsaid. Especially when his freedom was on the line.

At last, Father Maxi had brought the ceremony to a close and the casket would be lowered into the prepared deep dip in the earth. After swift and insincere apologies to the Tucker couple, a few family members headed towards their cars. Tweek’s heart wretched as he watched Craig’s mother dab the corners of her eyes with tissues, the act proving irrelevant as new tears replaced the old ones. He wished more than anything that he could somehow magically resurrect Craig for many reasons, but seeing the usually chirpy and unwaveringly kind women reduced to such a heart-broken state was unbearable.

Tweek flinched when he felt the abrupt presence of fingertips against his spine. He spun in the direction of the perpetrator to find a disconcerted Clyde. He gave Tweek a tight hug before leaving the smaller boy to the thoughts that consumed him. Witnessing Tweek’s total mental breakdown on the day he found out about Craig’s death created somewhat of a discomfort for a majority of his peers to interact with him, so he thankfully was not flocked and fawned over like a wounded puppy. He was extremely tired of that muddled look in everyone’s eyes, however. He didn’t need their pity. He just needed Craig to stop being dead.

Tweek was the only person who remained in the graveyard at the imminent death formality. Tweek’s parents and Clyde (who had become the equivalent of a parent during the past week and a half) did not spend too much of their energy attempting to coax Tweek into leaving. Instead they decided to leave him be and allow him to try and find some closure on his own.

For what felt like days but was mere minutes, the blond stood before the newly upturned patch of earth that was signified by a marble plaque that was built into the ground. The most eye-catching aspect of the rock that mocked him was the numbers _1948-1966._ For some reason, those simple symbols made the situation’s impact more several, as if Lucifer himself was cackling in Tweek’s ear at his personal victory in obliterating the blond boys sense of hope and pleasure. Craig Tucker, the most incredible human to ever grace this godforsaken planet, only got seventeen years? It didn’t make sense to him.

After a good amount of blank staring, Tweek realized that he neurotic. He knelt before where the remainder of Craig’s body laid six-feet beneath the ground. He slide his eyelids closed and imagined that this was some sort of mental portal where his words or thoughts would be transferred right to his lover wherever his consciousness was resting.

“Hey, baby.” Tweek’s voice was weak and tainted with betrayal, but he decided it felt right to address his boyfriend. “Y’know, it’s stupid, but every mornin’ when I wake up, I think to myself, ‘Oh, what a horrible nightmare. I wonder if I should tell Craig’. Then, I realize this ain’t no nightmare… it’s just my life now.”

Tweek half expected to hear a characteristically sarcastic snort in reply from Craig, and when heard nothing but cars zooming down the road behind him and the gentle rustling of the leaves above his head, it broke him down instead. Tweek became choked up, tears streaming down his pallor cheeks. He allowed himself a long pause before saying, “I miss you, Craig. More than I thought was even possible. I spent a long while thinking on how if I’d’ve just went home with you that day, you’d be here with me where I need you still, but now I just miss you like fuckin’ crazy. I-I can’t do this alone, without you... I miss how you always smelled like cinnamon incents if you came straight from home and how you always had to have all your thick hair slicked back or you started to have a panic attack,”—Tweek chuckled at the memory—“Sometimes I thought you cared about your hair more than me. And I miss when you’d say that you _do_ care about your hair more than me, ‘cause I miss your goddamned smart mouth. I miss how soft your hands are—were. I miss that little birthmark on your right thigh. I miss you happy, sad, excited, mad... God, I just fuckin’ miss you.”

A stream of tears flowed in an abundance at this juncture. Tweek held himself together in the public eye pretty impressively for someone of his mental state, but couldn’t cease himself from sheading a few tears for his best friend and lover. A hot huff of air took it’s time filtering from Tweek’s mouth. He sniffled, and then in a slow voice, “I’m so sorry you didn’t get to graduate, or get a car, or go to college, or get married, or anything… I’m so sorry you had to die for us,” Tweek choked on the final few words, pausing to compose himself, “I know one day I’m gonna get used to the fact that you died on me. But I’m never gonna move on from you. I was your’s forever and death ain’t gonna stop that. I promise you.”

With that being stated, the sickly blonde boy was officially too emotionally exhausted to continue to be in front of Craig’s grave. He took off out of the relatively small graveyard and went into pursuit for whatever type of alcohol that would get him the most intoxicated with the least amount of consumption.

_October, 1991_

“Welcome to Craig’s Bakery,” Tweek spouted casually from behind the counter, sending an enthusiastic beam to two costumers that just plodded through the glass door of his establishment. The man’s eyebrow rose at the lack of response, but did not let it faze him until he saw that it was two giggly boys. The thinning blond had to stifle an eye roll at the thought of serving yet more rowdy teenagers all of his donuts. But, with a keener eye, he began to recognize mannerisms and winsome glances the two shared. A possibly odd sense of pride set over him.

One of the boy’s was relatively small with apple green eyes wider than saucers when he looked at his taller companion, whom possessed a keen smile and kind hazel eyes. Tweek’s hearted swelled with nostalgia and fondness. A sip off bitter coffee preoccupied him as the two discussed what pastries they would purchase for their day in. He perked up when the approached the counter, hands locked together.

“Hello, sir.” The taller addressed with a charming smile. Tweek nodded with a simper of his own, encouraging the kid to continue. “Can I get two chocolate chip muffins and four lemon bars?”

Tweek grunted in confirmation. “Comin’ right up.”

Baking was the noble career that Tweek had spent close to ten years pursuing and maintaining. It was never quite his passion until much later, far after losing the business’s name sake to the rampant homophobia and racism of rural Colorado in the sixties. Tweek had spent what felt like centuries fighting for justice for Craig Tucker, engaging in social activism with a group of close friends from high school. After a grueling three month-long trial entitled _Cartman vs. Tucker_ that ended with Cartman being sentenced to nothing but an anger-management course, Tweek dedicated his time to study law in college, putting his knowledge to use in drafting legislation and critical essays that were rarely considered by anyone of import and directly inspired by the injustice of the situation. After years of fruitless endeavors, passionate arguments and sit-ins that led nowhere, and the loss of his close friend, Clyde, to the Vietnam draft, he allowed his fellow pseudo-activist and then best friend to convince him to move out to San Francisco, California with him. At that point, Kenny had begun to recover from his own heartbreak of his boyfriend, Stan, breaking up with him to play college Football, which required his presence half-way across the country. Though Kyle took up the social activism mantle, he soon settled into domesticity with a girl from their high school, though he remained adamantly supportive. Kenny and Tweek barely scraped by in a shoebox apartment in San Fransisco, only having one another to depend on. Kenny produced semi-popular protest music, his popularity dwindingly since the beginning of the decade, but inspiring to the pair nonetheless. They joined a small following for LGBT rights, and closely followed Harvey Milk and his message.

After his assassination in ’78, Tweek’s fire became increasingly dimmer. After securing a much needed steady job at a family-owned bakery, where he learned the trade and soon realized after a disheartening ten years of activism he was more than ready to fall into normalcy, even finding himself developing romantic feelings for the first time since Craig’s death. After a pitifully long period of pinning, he decided to confront Kenny with desire to be more than friends. He enjoyed his first kiss in several years, though the term of endearment was cut short with an onset of Kenny’s tears wetting both of their cheeks. He too had a confession—he had been diagnosed with HIV, which was believed to rapidly become AIDS. The pair agreed to maintain their strong, platonic relationship through Kenny’s slow, painful battle with the virus. Another irreplaceable portion of Tweek’s soul died of AIDS complications in 1985.

He remained in that shoebox apartment by himself, putting his heart and soul into the bakery he decided to open with the funds he had saved up and that Kenny had left him. He named it for Craig, and spent almost all of his time working in order to remain distracted, though he did attend an LGBT support group for those who had lost loved ones to AIDS, where he met some truly amazing people who became close friends that ensured his heart was not completely lonely in the huge, cruel world he lived in.

“Here you are,” Tweek announced, after neatly wrapping a pack of lemon bars and two fluffy, golden chocolate chip muffins. He gingerly placed the identical cakes into a paper bag with his business logo and rang up the charges. “That’ll be four-thirty-five.”

“I got it, babe.” The smaller boy said to the taller. He cocked an eyebrow, but a ten dollar bill was already presented and being handed to Tweek.

The man gave the couple a grin and wished he had a better filter. What could he say? He was getting old too old to beat around the bush. “Don’t color me blunt, but are you two boys together?”

The smaller boy appeared as if he were put on the spot, but the taller was confident in his reply. Lips pulling into a defiant smirk, he tugged his boyfriend nearer and answered affirmatively. “Yes, we are. If you don’t serve homosexuals, then I’ll gladly have my money back.”

Tweek puffed out a tired scoff as he counted their change. The taller’s attitude faltered slightly when he watched the man give them exact change, then their goods. “No. You two just remind me of myself and a boyfriend I had once.”

“Oh… sorry,” He winced apologetically.

“That’s a compliment, I hope?” The smaller attempted to compensate for his boyfriend’s attitude with a nonchalant comment.

Tweek’s jade eyes twinkled in remembrance. He nodded. “Let’s just say, my name isn’t Craig.”

The young couple exchanged heart-warmed smiles. They thanked Tweek, then retreated from the shop and disappeared into the outside world. Tweek sighed to himself, thoughts now enveloped in his past relationship. Of course he thought of Craig daily considering his business’s title, but it was less often he recalled specific details of their rendezvous. He smoothed his hand over his wavy blond locks, memories making him wonder just how bad he would look with grease in his hair now. _You already look like a square, what do you got to lose?_ Craig’s voice echoed in his head, causing an idiotic grin to break out across his face.

Although his heart was able to mend and move on from the tragedy, he would never quite get over the sarcastic, boring, space-loving, kindhearted, supportive, perfect Craig Tucker that would always hold his heart. In a trance, he fluttered to the backroom of his business and shuffled around his belonging until he procured his portable CD player from beneath his desk. A poorly organized drawer held his small collection of CDs: _Honky Château_ from an artist he had fallen in love with in the 70’s, Kenny’s copy of his favorite The Clash album, and something he had purchased on a nostalgic whim— _Dean Martin’s Greatest Hits_. He popped open the plastic case, pinching the edges of the disc before gently placing it into the player. He pressed the “seek” button until he heard the familiar, sudden vibrato of a violin, then the smooth, syrupy voice of Craig Tucker’s favorite singer.

_Everybody loves somebody sometime_

As the instrumentals kicked in, Tweek leaned back in his chair. He let his eyes shut, allowing the lyrics to take him back to his first official date with his boyfriend, in which listening to his sweet voice poorly imitate the swing singer’s cadence made his heart swell, want and lust and love washing over him. Tweek hadn’t cared for the song at the time, and he wished he had appreciated it when it had stood for something beautiful and new instead of a remembrance of lost love.

“Something in your kiss just told me… My sometime is now,” He softly sang along, bobbing his head.

A new, false image engulfed his mind. He pictured himself young like those boys he had just served, able to strut about town, openly in love. Craig was the one giggling, drawing closer to him as he decided what baked good they should snack on together. Craig was defiantly challenging anyone who dare gave them a sideways glare. Craig was breathing, happy as ever, arms wrapped tightly around Tweek’s waist, forcing him to sway to the song he’d heard far too many times.

_Everybody loves somebody sometime  
And though my dreams were overdue  
Your love made it all worth waiting  
For someone like you_


End file.
